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SKETCHES 


OF 

EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

NO.  146  CHESTNUT  STREET. 

LONDON: 

RELIGIOUS  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


NoTS.-“The  American  Sunday-school  Union  have  made  an 
arrangement  with  the  London  Religious  Tract  Society , to  pub- 
lish, concurrently  with  them,  such  of  their  valuable  works  as 
are  best  suited  to  our  circulation.  In  making  the  selection, 
reference  will  be  had  to  the  general  utility  of  the  volumes 
and  their  sound  moral  tendency.  They  will  occupy  a distinct . 
place  on  our  catalogue,  and  will  constitute  a valuable  addi- 
tion to  our  stock  of  books  for  family  and  general  reading. 

As  they  Will  be,  substantially,  reprints  of  the  London  edi- 
tion, the  credit  of  their  general  character  will  belong  to  our 
English  brethren  and  not  to  us ; and  we  may  add,  that  the 
republication  of  them,  under  our  joint  imprint,  involves  us  in 
no  responsibility  beyond  that  of  a judicious  selection.  We 
cheerfully  avail  ourselves  of  this  arrangement  for  giving 
wider  influence  and  value  to. the  labours  of  a sister-institution 
so  catholic  in  its  character  and  so  efficient  in  its  operations 
as  the  London  Religious  Tract  Society. 

LGP  The  present  volume  is  issued  under  the  above  ar* 
rangement. 


/O-  9z> 

S/fz  Xc? 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction 5 

William  Harvey,  m.d.  ........  6 

Thomas  Sydenham,  m.d 17 

Hermann  Boerrhaave,  m.d 27 

William  Hey,  esq 35 

Thoma*  Bateman,  m.d .60 

Edward  Jenner,  m.d.  . 83 

John  Mason  Good,  m.d 104 

Robert  Gooch,  m.d 126 

Sir  William  Knighton,  bart.,  m.d 142 

James  Hope,  m.d. 166 


NS 


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EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


* + 

If  there  be  any  valid  ground  for  an  accusation 
sometimes  brought  against  the  medical  pro- 
fession— that  scepticism  and  infidelity  prevail 
amongst  its  members, — the  biographical  sketches 
of  which  this  little  work  consists,  furnish 
f at  least  sufficient  evidence  that  there  is  no 
necessary  connexion  between  either  the- studies 
or  the  active  duties  of  a medical  man,  and  the 
denial  or  practical  neglect  of  those  great  truths 
which  have  been  brought  to  light  by  the 
gospel.  All  to  whose  lives  and  characters 
reference  is  here  made,  were  men  of  distin- 
guished professional  talent — the  guides  and 
leaders  of  their  brethren ; and  yet  the  greater 
part  of  them  not  only  lived  and  died  in  the 
open  avowal  of  the  faith  of  Jesus,  but  were 
enabled,  it  will  be  seen,  to  adorn  the  doctrine 
of  God  their  Saviour  in  all  things : — and  were 
thus,  in  the  highest  sense  of  all,  ornaments 
to  a profession  which,  more  than  any  other, 
unfolds  to  the  eye  of  the  intelligent  observer 
the  wonderful  works  of  God,  which  brings 
1*  5 


6 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


before  the  mind  in  quick  succession  the  awful 
realities  of  sickness,  death,  and  a coming  eter- 
nity; and  which  is,  at  the  same  time,  second 
to  one  only,  in  the  opportunities  it  affords  to 
fulfil  the  apostolic  maxim — “ Let  us  do  good 
unto  all  men,  especially  unto  them  who  are 
of  the  household  of  faith.” 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D. 

11  The  wisdom  of  the  Creator,”  it  has  been 
well  said,  “ is  in  nothing  seen  more  gloriously 
than  in  the  heart  and  blood-vessels  — the 
action  of  the  latter  is  essential  to  the  per- 
formance of  every  function,  and  diffusing  life, 
health,  and  vigour,  through  the  entire  animal 
frame ; the  cessation  of  the  former,  for  a short 
period,  absolutely  fatal  ; the  whole,  never- 
theless, so  constructed  as  to  go  on  at  the  rate 
of  a hundred  thousand  pulsations  in  every 
twenty-four  hours,  for  a period  of  from  seventy 
to  eighty  years  without  disorder,  without  in- 
terruption, and  without  weariness  ! And  yet 
so  simple  is  the  contrivance  by  which  all  this 
is  brought  about,  that  the  next  thing  which 
astonishes  us  is  the  fact,  that  so  many  years 
elapsed  before  it  was  at  all  accurately  under- 
stood. The  arteries  were  found  empty  after 
death  ; it  was,  therefore,  concluded  that  they 
merely  conveyed  air  or  some  kind  of  “ animal 
spirits.”  The  veins  alone  were  .supposed  to 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D. 


7 


convey  blood.  By  some  it  was  propounded 
that  the  fluids  moved  along  the  vessels  in 
one  direction  during  the  day,  and  in  the 
contrary  direction  during  the  hours  of  sleep, 
with  many  other  equally  chimerical  and 
unfounded  hypotheses.  In  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, a little  more  light  was  thrown  upon 
the  subject.  By  the  researches  of  Servetus 
and  of  the  Italian  anatomists,  Colombo  and 
Cesalpini,  the  lesser  circulation  through  the 
lungs,  the  fact  of  the  blood  being  acted  upon 
by  the  air,  the  existence  of  valves  in  the 
veins,  and  a few  other  particulars,  were  made 
out.  But  it  was  reserved  for  our  illustrious 
countryman,  in  the  century  before  last,  to 
connect  the  whole  into  one  harmonious  system ; 
to  announce  to  the  world  the  great  discovery 
of  the  true  doctrine  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood ; to  open  up  a new  era  in  medical  science ; 
and  to  introduce  as  great  a revolution  in  the 
sciences  of  anatomy  and  physiology,  as  Newton 
afterwards  did  in  those  of  astronomy  and 
optics,  by  his  theories  of  gravitation  and 
light. 

William  Harvey  was  descended  from  a 
respectable  family  in  Kent,  and  was  born  at 
Folkestone  on  the  1st  of  April,  1578.  His 
education  was  conducted  first  at  a grammar 
school  in  Canterbury,  and  afterwards  at 
Gonville  and  Caius  College  at  Cambridge. 
To  minds  of  a certain  order,  some  com- 
paratively trivial  event,  carefully  pondered, 
not  unfrequently  opens  the  path  to  dis- 


8 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


coveries  of  tlie  greatest  magnitude.  There 
seems,  at  first  sight,  little  relation  between  the 
fall  of  an  apple,  and  the  splendid  scientific 
achievements  of  Newton.  Yet  it  was  a train 
of  thought,  directed  by  this  apparently  trifling 
circumstance,  which  conducted  him  to  the 
whole  of  them.  Thus  it  was  with  Harvey. 
In  the  course  of  his  travels,  for  the  completion 
of  his  medical  education,  he  settled  for  a short 
time  at  Padua.  Fabricius  ab  Aquapendente 
was  then  at  the  height  of  his  reputation  as  a 
* professor  of  anatomy  in  the  university  of  that 
place.  The  theatre,  built  at  his  expense,  is 
still  exhibited  to  visitors  at  Padua.  Its  cir- 
cular seats,  rising  almost  perpendicularly  one 
above  another,  now  nearly  black  with  age, 
give  to  the  small  apartment,  which  is  wains- 
coted with  curiously  carved  oak,  a solemn 
and  venerable  appearance.  The  lectures  were 
given  by  candlelight,  as,  from  the  construction 
of  the  theatre,  no  other  light  could  be  admitted. 
Here  it  was  that  Harvey  caught  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  discovery  which  has  since 
immortalized  his  name.  Fabricius  one  day 
pointed  out  the  existence  of  valves  in  the 
veins — not,  however,  that  he  had  the  slightest 
conception  of  their  use,  for  the  only  conjecture 
that  he  could  hazard  was,  that  they  might  be 
designed  to  moderate  the  flow  of  blood  from 
the  trunks  of  the  veins  to  their  smaller 
branches,  taking  it  for  granted  that  such  was 
the  course  of  the  circulation.  This  was  enough 
for  his  intelligent  pupil.  There  were  valves 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D. 


9 


in  the  veins  undoubtedly ; but  could  this  be  the 
intention  of  them  ? He  would  not  place  im- 
plicit dependence  upon  any  teacher,  however 
celebrated,  but  would  erShine  for  himself. 
Valves  opening  towards  the  heart  seemed  cal- 
culated to  impede  altogether,  rather  than  to 
retard  merely,  the  flow  of  blood  in  a direction 
from  that  organ.  Tie  up  a vein  or  compress 
it,  as  is  done  in  the  simple  operation  of  bleeding, 
and  that  portion  of  the  vessel  which  is  at  the 
greatest  distance  from  the  heart  will  swell  and 
become  distended.  Whereas,  he  soon  dis- 
covered that,  if  an  artery  were  tied,  just  the 
contrary  happened  ; that  part  became  enlarged 
which  was  nearest  to  the  heart.  Hence  he 
was  led  by  various  experiments,  step  by  step, 
till  he  clearly  demonstrated  that  the  heart  is 
first  of  all  excited  to  contract  by  the  stimulus 
of  the  blood,  that  this  fluid  is  impelled 
through  the  arteries,  and,  after  having  served 
every  purpose  of  secretion  and  nourishment, 
returns  by  the  veins  to  recommence  the  cir- 
culation. 

Great,  however,  as  the  discovery  un- 
doubtedly was — immense  as  was  its  practical 
advantage — simple  and  easily  demonstrable  as 
it  now  appears,  Harvey  durst  not  for  many 
years  even  drop  a hint  upon  the  subject  in  his 
comparatively  private  lectures,  and  it  was  not 
until  nearly  thirty  years  had  elapsed  that  he 
ventured  to  publish  to  the  world,  not  in  his 
own  country,  but  at  Frankfort,  the  results  of 
his  experiments.  And  then  nothing  could 


10 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


exceed  the  contempt  and  ridicule  with  which 
it  was  received.  Had  he  lived  in  a country 
unblessed  with  the  light  of  the  Keformation, 
he  would  probably  have  shared  the  fate  of 
Galileo.  As  it  was,  he  was  accused  of  pro- 
pagating doctrines  tending  to  subvert  the 
authority  of  Holy  Scripture,  the  epithet  cir- 
culator, in  its  Latin  invidious  signification, 
(quack,)  was  applied  to  him,  it  was  given  out 
that  he  was  “ crack-brained,”  and  his  practice 
as  a physician  sensibly  declined.  In  a quarter 
of  a century  more,  his  system  was  received 
in  all  the  universities  of  the  world,  and  Harvey 
lived  to  enjoy  the  reputation  he  so  justly 
merited. 

The  date  of  the  first  promulgation  of  his 
then  novel  views  has  not  been  accurately  ascer- 
tained. Thus  much  is  certain, — Harvey 
graduated  at  Padua  and  afterwards  at  Cam- 
bridge in  the  year  1602,  soon  after  which  he 
settled  in  the  practice  of  his  profession  in 
London.  In  1607,  he  was  elected  Fellow  of 
the  College  of  Physicians,  and  in  1615,  he  was 
appointed  reader  of  the  anatomical  and  surgical 
lectures  founded  by  lord  Lumley  and 
Dr.  Caldwell.  In  the  British  Museum,  there  is 
an  original  ms.  of  his  lectures  of  the  date 
of  April,  1616,  which  contains  the  propo- 
sitions on  which  his  doctrine  is  founded.  But 
it  was  not  till  1628,  when  he  was  in  his  fiftieth 
year,  that  he  published  the  great  work  already 
referred  to.  Sofne  curious  preparations,  rude 
enough,  but,  under  the  circumstances  of  the 


11 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D. 

case,  highly  interesting,  which  he  either  him- 
self made  at  Padua,  or  procured  from  that 
celebrated  school,  and  very  probably  exhibited 
during  his  course  of  lectures,  were  not  very 
long  since  presented  to  the  College  of  Physicians 
by  the  earl  of  Winchelsea — a direct  descendant 
of  lord  chancellor  Nottingham,  who  married 
Harvey’s  niece.  They  consist  of  six  tables 
or  boards,  upon  which  are  nerves  and  blood- 
vessels, carefully  dissected  out  of  the  body; 
in  one  of  them  the  semilunar  valves  of  the 
aorta  are  distinctly  to  be  seen.  These  valves 
placed  at  the  origin  of  the  arteries,  must, 
doubtless,  together  with  the  valves  of  the 
veins,  have  furnished  the  most  striking  and 
conclusive  arguments  in  favour  of  the  true 
system. 

The  talent  and  discoveries  of  Harvey  soon 
recommended  him  to  the  notice  of  the  court. 
From  a letter  of  James  i.,  dated  February  3, 
1623,  it  appears  that  he  had  then  for  some 
time  been  physician  extraordinary  to  his 
majesty.  In  1632,  he  was  appointed  physi- 
cian to  Charles  I.,  who  always  treated  him 
with  much  regard,  and  was  an  interested  spec- 
tator of  many  of  his  experiments.  About 
this  time,  he  appears  to  have  accompanied  the 
earl  of  Arundel  and  Surrey,  lord  high  marshal 
of  England,  as  his  physician,  in  his  embassy  to 
the  emperor.  Aubrey  states,  that  one  of  his 
excellency’s  attendants  on  this  occasion  told 
him  that,  in  his  journey  to  Vienna,  Harvey 
would  always  be  making  excursions  into  the 


12 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


woods,  in  order  to  investigate  11  strange  trees 
and  plants,  earths,”  etc.,  and  sometimes  was  in 
danger  of  being  lost,  “ so  that,”  adds  he,  “ my 
lord  ambassador  would  be  really  angry  with 
him,  for  there  was  not  only  danger  of  thieves, 
but  also  of  wild  beasts.”  In  the  following  year, 
Harvey  accompanied  the  king  in  his  visit  to 
his  northern  dominions,  and  when  the  civil  war 
broke  out,  he  still  followed  the  fortunes  of  his 
royal  master,  attended  him  when  he  left 
London,  and  was  present  at  the  battle  of  Edge 
Hill.  On  this  occasion,  the  prince,  afterwards 
Charles  n.,  and  the  duke  of  York,  were  com- 
mitted to  his  charge.  While  the  fight  was 
going  on,  he  had  not  a mind  to  forego  pursuits 
more  congenial  to  his  taste  ; accordingly,  he 
withdrew  with  the  young  princes  under  a 
hedge,  and  took  out  of  his  pocket  a book, 
which  he  began  to  read.  He  had  not,  how- 
ever, pursued  his  studies  long,  before  a cannon- 
ball grazed  on  the  ground  near  him,  which 
soon  compelled  him  to  remove  his  station. 
After  an  arduous  struggle,  both  sides  claimed 
the  victory;  but  one  result  of  the  battle  was 
favourable  to  the  inclinations  and  designs  of 
Harvey.  The  king  continued  his  march,  and 
took  possession  of  Oxford,  the  only  town  in  his 
dominions  which  was  altogether  at  his  devotion. 
Hither,  with  the  rest  of  the  royal  household, 
his  physician  retired,  and  here  he  had  abundant 
leisure  to  pursue  his  favourite  studies ; although 
under  the  disadvantage  of  having  lost  many 
most  valuable  notes  of  experiments,  which  he 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D.  13 

had  previously  made;  for,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  rebellion,  his  lodgings  at  Whitehall  had 
been  plundered,  and  many  papers  containing 
curious  observations  upon  the  dissections  of 
animals  had  totally  disappeared.  This  was  a 
loss  which  he  never  ceased  to  lament,  saying, 
that  “ for  love  or  money  he  could  neither 
retrieve  or  obtain  them.”  He  remained  at 
Oxford  about  three  years,  during  which  time 
— in  1645—  he  was  made  warden  of  Merton 
College,  by  the  king’s  mandate.  It  is  related 
of  him,  that,  during  his  stay  there,  he  was  in 
habits  of  intimacy  with  a kindred  mind,  Dr. 
Bathurst,  of  Trinity  College.  This  gentleman 
kept  a hen  to  hatch  eggs  in  his  chamber,  which 
they  opened  daily  to  understand  the  whole  pro- 
cess and  results  of  incubation.  “ Eggs,”  says 
Harvey,  11  were  a cheap  merchandise,  and  were 
at  hand  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  ; and  it 
was  an  easy  matter  to  observe  out  of  them 
what  are  the  first  evident  and  distinct  marks 
of  generation  ; what  progress  nature  makes  in 
formation,  and  with  what  wonderful  providence 
she  governs  the  whole  work.”  This  was  a 
favourite  study  with  Harvey,  and  forms  the 
subject  of  his  other  great  work,  second  only  in 
importance  to  his  “ Treatise  on  the  Motion  of 
the  Heart  and  the  Blood.”  Dr.  Charles  Scar- 
borough, afterwards  knighted  by  Charles  n., 
was  another  associate  in  whose  society  he  at 
this  time  much  delighted  ; except  that  he  con- 
sidered him  in  danger,  under  the  contagion  of 
those  troublous  times,  of  neglecting  his  medical 
2 


14 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


studies  for  the  more  brilliant  profession  of 
arms.  To  check  his  military  ardour,  he  ac- 
commodated the  young  doctor  with  a lodging 
in  his  own  apartment,  saying,  u Prithee  leave 
off  thy  gunning,  and  stay  here  ; I will  bring 
thee  into  practice.”  But  in  the  year  1646, 
Charles  wras  persuaded  to  put  himself  in  the 
power  of  the  Scottish  army  at  Newark,  and 
orders  were  issued  for  the  surrender  of  Oxford. 
Consequently  Harvey  was  obliged  to  relinquish 
his  short-lived  appointment  of  warden  to  Merton 
College,  and  to  return  to  London,  where  for 
some  time  he  lived  with  his  brother  Eliab,  a 
rich  merchant,  who  resided  opposite  to  St. 
Mildred,  in  the  Poultry.  How  long  he  re- 
mained with  his  brother  does  not  appear,  but 
it  is  certain,  that,  not  very  long  after  this  period, 
he  withdrew  very  much  from  the  world,  and 
passed  his  time  in  retirement,  in  a house  which 
he  possessed  at  Combe,  in  Surrey.  Here  he 
had  the  advantages  of  a good  air  and  a pleasing 
prospect,  but  to  indulge  a whim  he  had  of 
delighting  in  being  in  the  dark,  he  caused  caves 
to  be  made  in  the  earth,  in  which,  in  summer 
time,  he  was  accustomed  to  meditate.  In  this 
seclusion  he  was  visited,  in  the  year  1651,  by 
his  friend  Dr.  Ent.  “ I found  him,”  says  Enr, 
“ in  his  retirement,  not  far  from  town,  with  a 
sprightly  and  cheerful  countenance,  investi- 
gating, like  Democritus,  the  nature  of  things. 
Asking  if  all  were  well  with  him, — 1 How  can 
that  be,’  he  replied, i when  the  state  is  so  agitate  d 
with  storms,  and  I,  myself,  am  yet  in  the  open 


WILLIAM  HARVEY,  M.D.  15 

sea  ! And  indeed,7  added  he,  6 were  not  my 
mind  solaced  by  my  studies,  and  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  observations  I have  formerly  made, 
there  is  nothing  which  should  make  me  desirous 
of  a longer  continuance.  But,  thus  employed, 
this  obscure  life,  and  vacation  from  public 
cares,  which  disquiet  other  minds,  is  the 
medicine  of  mine.’  ” Ent  goes  on  to  relate  a 
philosophical  conversation  between  them,  the 
result  of  which  was  the  determination  on  the 
part  of  Harvey  to  publish  his  second  great 
work  just  alluded  to. 

In  the  year  1653,  Harvey  presented  the 
College  of  Physicians  with  a library  and 
museum,  erected  in  a munificent  manner, 
entirely  at  his  own  expense.  It  is  described  as 
a noble  edifice  of  Roman  architecture  (of  rustic 
'work,  with  Corinthian  pilasters,)  and  consisted 
of  an  elegantly  furnished  convocation  room,  or 
parlour,  below,  and  a library,  filled  with  choice 
books  and  surgical  instruments,  above.  And, 
we  are  told,  it  was  erected  in  the  garden  of  the 
College  of  Physicians,  at  that  time  situated  in 
Amen  Corner.  This  garden , it  seems,  was  of 
an  irregular  form,  but  extended  as  far  as  the 
Old  Bailey  to  the  west , and  towards  the  south 
reached  the  church  of  St.  Martin,  Ludgate 
Hill.  In  the  following  year,  he  was  appointed 
president  of  the  college,  an  office  which  he 
declined  to  accept  on  account  of  his  advanced 
age  and  infirmities,  but  he  testified  his  regard 
for  its  welfare  still  farther,  by  giving  up  his 
paternal  estate  of  d656  per  annum  for  its 


16 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


benefit.  The  few  remaining  years  of  Harvey’s 
life  were  much  embittered  by  suffering  from 
the  gout  and  other  bodily  infirmities.  He  died 
on  the  3rd  of  June,  1657. 

There  are  many  remarks,  in  the  works  of 
this  . distinguished  physiologist,  expressive  of 
profound  reverence  for  the  great  First  Cause  of 
all  those  wonders,  into  which  it  was  his  delight 
to  pry  with  such  curious  research.  He  was 
accustomed  to  say,  that  he  never  dissected  the 
body  of  an  animal,  without  discovering  some- 
thing which  he  had  not  expected  or  conceived 
of,  and  in  which  he  recognised  the  hand  of  an 
all-wise  Creator.  To  His  particular  agency, 
and  not  merely  to  the  operation  of  general 
laws,  he  ascribed  all  the  phenomena  of  nature. 
It  would  have  been  gratifying  to  have  traced 
the  effect  of  the  great  truths  of  the  Bible, 
as  impressing  his  heart  and  regulating  his 
conduct ; but  on  this  important  question  we  can 
say  nothing  farther,  as  his  biographers  are 
silent. 

In  his  person,  Harvey  was  very  small  in 
stature,  round  faced,  of  an  olive  complexion, 
with  small  round  black  eyes,  and  hair  black  as 
a raven  till  within  twenty  years  of  his  death, 
when  it  became  quite  white.  His  mind  was 
furnished  with  an  ample  store  of  general  know- 
ledge. In  early  life,  he  is  said  to  have  been 
passionate,  and  apt  to  draw  the  dagger — which, 
after  the  manner  of  the  times,  he  constantly 
wore — on  very  slight  occasions.  But  when  he 
grew  up  to  manhood,  and  during  his  long  life, 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM,  M.D. 


17 


he  had  the  character  of  being  candid,  cheerful, 
and  upright,  living  on  terms  of  harmony  w ith 
his  friends  and  brethren,  and  showing  no  spirit 
of  rivalry  and  hostility.  His  visits  to  his 
patients  he  made,  wre  are  told,  on  horseback, 
with  a footcloth,  his  man  following  on  foot,  in 
the  same  way  in  which  the  judges  wrere  then 
accustomed  to  ride  to  Westminster  Hall.  But 
in  practice,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
particularly  successful.  The  truth  was,  that 
the  great  physiologist  not  only  disdained  those 
arts  of  gaining  the  confidence  of  the  public,  by 
which  many  succeed,  but  was  probably  too 
intent  on  making  discoveries  in  science,  and  of 
too  speculative  a turn  of  mind,  to  devote  that 
attention  to  practical  details,  which  is  so  essen- 
tially requisite  in  the  art  of  medicine. 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM,  M.D. 

The  mental  characteristics  of  no  two  individuals 
differed  more  widely  than  those  of  Harvey  and 
Sydenham,  and  yet  it  is  doubtful  to  w?hich  of 
them  the  science  of  medicine  has  been  most 
indebted.  The  triumphs  of  the  latter  were  not 
those  of  an  original  and  brilliant  genius,  bent 
on  detecting  the  hidden  operations  of  creative 
wisdom  ; but  he  possessed  a fund  of  sagacity 
and  practical  good  sense,  which  gave  him  an 
easy  ascendant  over  the  empty  theory  and 
vague  hypothesis,  and,  we  may  add,  the 
2* 


18 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


inveterate  prejudice  likewise,  which  disgraced 
the  period  in  which  he  lived.  Unquestionably 
there  exists  in  the  animal  body  a most  wonder- 
ful and  beneficent  provision  for  the  spontaneous 
removal  of  injury  and  disease  of  every  kind. 
To  watch  with  an  unwearied  eye  the  ever- 
varying  forms  of  disease — to  detect  the  latent 
capabilities  of  the  “ restorative  power” — to  re- 
move all  impediments  out  of  the  way,  and 
render  every  available  assistance  to  its  operation 
— these  are  the  leading  aims  of  every  intelligent 
and  really  successful  practitioner.  Here  lay 
the  “ great  power”  of  Sydenham.  In  these 
respects  it  was  that  his  practice  was  so  much 
in  advance  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  and 
thus,  as  far  as  the  prejudices  of  the  time  would 
permit,  did  he  accomplish  a real  and  most 
satisfactory  revolution  in  the  entire  art  of 
medicine.  For  accurate  descriptions  of  disease, 
his  works  are  unrivalled,  and  in  this  respect 
may  even  now  be  consulted  with  advantage. 

This  justly  celebrated  physician  was  born  in 
the  year  1624.  He  was  the  son  of  William 
Sydenham,  esq.,  a gentleman  of  considerable 
property  in  Dorsetshire,  whose  mansion  at 
Wynford  Eagle — now  converted  into  a farm- 
house— is  still  in  existence,  and  stands  on  the 
property  of  the  present  lord  Wynford.  Of  his 
childhood  and  early  youth  nothing  is  recorded. 
At  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  was  entered  a com- 
moner of  Magdalen  Hall,  Oxford,  but  he  could 
have  remained  there  but  a short  time,  as  we 
are  told  he  left  the  university  when  it  became 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM,  M.D. 


19 


a garrison  for  king  Charles,  after  the  battle  of 
Edge  Hill.  This  occurred  in  October,  1642. 
Harvey,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was  at 
Oxford  at  that  time,  but  probably  the  young 
freshman  had  no  intercourse  with  the  great 
discoverer  of  the  circulation.  At  all  events, 
they  espoused  opposite  sides  on  the  spirit- 
stirring  questions  which  then  agitated  the 
nation.  Harvey  was  a devoted  royalist,  whilst 
Sydenham  actually  joined  the  parliamentary 
army,  though  he  could  have  spent  but  few 
years  in  the  camp,  and  never  attained  to  a 
higher  rank  than  that  of  captain.  Sir  Richard 
Black  more  asserts,  that  he  entered  the  pro- 
fession of  medicine  by  accident,  and  from 
necessity,  when  a disbanded  officer,  and  with- 
out any  preparatory  study  or  discipline. — “ I 
one  day  asked  Sydenham  what  books  I should 
read  to  qualify  me  for  practice.  1 Read  Don 
Quixote,’  replied  he,  4 it  is  a very  good  book  ; I 
read  it  still.’”  Whether  this  rejoinder  were 
intended  as  a keen  satire  upon  the  medical 
literature  of  the  age,  or,  as  Dr.  Johnson  thinks, 
upon  the  talents  and  attainments  of  Blackmore 
himself,  thus  much  is  certain : Sydenham  did 
return  to  Oxford,  that  he  might  have  leisure 
and  opportunity  to  pursue  his  medical  studies ; 
and,  after  graduating  as  bachelor  of  physic, 
April  14,  1648,  at  which  time  he  was  likewise 
elected  a fellow  of  All  Souls  College,  he  still 
remained  at  Oxford  for  several  years  studying 
his  profession,  before  he  entered  to  any  extent 
into  those  practical  inquiries  to  which  he  so 


20 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


justly  attached  far  greater  importance  than  “to 
the  vain  pomp  of  nice  speculations.”  He  took 
his  doctor’s  degree  at  Cambridge.  On  leaving 
the  English  universities  he  visited  Montpellier, 
at  that  time  a celebrated  school  of  physic,  and 
then  settled  art  Westminster,  and  speedily  rose 
to  eminence  as  a practical  physician. 

Such  was  the  caution  and  deliberation  with 
which  Sydenham  entered  upon  the  duties  of 
his  profession,  that  he  is  stated  to  have  paid 
little  regard  to  the  time  he  bestowed  in 
examining  individual  cases.  u Well,  I will 
consider  of  your  case,  and  in  a few  days  will 
order  something  for  you.”  This  was  the  utmost 
amount  of  benefit  which  many  patients  were 
able  to  elicit  at  a first  visit.  But  he  speedily 
discovered  that  patients  thus  received  often 
forgot  to  come  any  more,  and  was,  therefore, 
compelled  to  adopt  a more  expeditious  and 
satisfactory  mode  of  procedure.  His  first  con- 
siderable work,  on  “ The  Method  of  Curing 
Fevers,”  was  published  in  the  year  1663,  and 
the  inroad  which  he  made  on  ordinary  practice 
and  popular  opinion  is  especially  apparent  in 
his  then  novel  method  of  treating  small  pox. 

The  usual  mode  of  dealing  with  this  then 
fearfully  virulent  disorder,  as  with  eruptive 
fevers  generally,  was  as  opposite  as  could  well 
be  imagined  to  the  dictates  either  of  nature  or 
of  common  sense.  The  unhappy  patient  was 
loaded  with  bed-clothes  ; lest  one  refreshing 
breeze  should  fan  his  burning  frame,  the  cur- 
tains "were  drawn  closely  round ; whilst,  under 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM.  M.D. 


21 


the  notion  of  the  existence  of  a putrescency  and 
dissolution  in  the  blood,  he  was  all  the  time  plied 
with  a round  of  stimulants  and  cordials — to  say 
nothing  of  the  perhaps  less  potent,  but  more 
disgusting  ingredients  with  which  good  care 
was  taken  that  they  should  be  sufficiently 
charged,  described  altogether  by  a nearly  con- 
temporary physician  as  “ Venice  treacle,  Vir- 
ginian snakeroot,  zedoary,  saffron,  volatile  salt 
of  hartshorn , 'powder  of  viper's  flesh,  and  the 
like  /”  Now  and  then  it  appears  the  “ resto- 
rative power”  topk  extreme  measures  to  vindi- 
cate its  outraged  potency.  “Luckily,”  says 
Sydenham,  u it  occurs  occasionally  that,  from 
the  preposterous  application  of  external  heat  and 
inward  cordials,  the  patient  becomes  delirious, 
and  in  a fit  of  frenzy,  escaping  from  the  cruel 
attention  of  his  nurse,  leaps  out  of  bed,  lies 
exposed  for  many  hours  to  the  cool  night  air, 
and  so  recovers.”  One  case  of  this  kind  in 
particular  appears  to  have  made  a powerful 
impression  on  his  mind.  A young  man  at 
Bristol  was  seized  with  the  small  pox  and 
became  delirious.  His  nurse,  having  occasion 
to  go  out  of  town,  left  her  patient  in  the  care 
of  others  during  her  absence.  Being  detained 
somewhat  longer  than  she  expected,  the  sick 
person  (as  it  seemed  to  those  about  him)  gave 
up  the  ghost.  As  the  weather  was  very  hot, 
the  body  was  placed  upon  a table,  covered  by 
a sheet  only.  The  nurse,  in  the  mean  time, 
returned  and  heard  the  sad  tidings,  but,  on 
removing  the  sheet  and  looking  at  the  counte- 


22 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


nance,  she  thought  she  could  perceive  some 
signs  of  life  remaining  ; and  having  placed  the 
extended  body  in  bed,  the  apparently  dead  man 
was  soon  restored,  and  in  a few  days  recovered 
perfect  health.  The  practice  introduced  by  Syden- 
ham was  the  plentiful  admission  of  fresh  air, 
cooling,  acid,  and  diluting  drinks  in  abundance, 
and  in  a word,  the  cool  regimen  carried  into  all 
its  details.  His  own  account  of  the  matter  is  cha- 
racterised by  his  accustomed  simplicity.  The 
following  short  sentence  describes  the  grounds 
on  which  his  judgment  was  founded,  and  lets 
us  into  the  main  secret  of  his  success.  “ I never 
observed  any  mischief,”  says  he,  u from  the  other 
method,  for  nature  left  to  herself  does  her  work 
in  her  own  time , and  then  expels  the  matter  in 
the  right  way  and  manner.”  Rational,  however, 
as  was  this  mode  of  treatment,  nothing  could 
exceed  the  opposition  it  met  with,  not  only  from 
the  prejudices  of  the  friends  of  the  sick,  but 
from  those  of  the  profession,  and  a generation 
passed  away  before  it  came  at  all  into  repute ; 
and  then  it  was  forced  upon  the  attention  of  the 
public  by  an  unworthy  successor  to  Syden- 
ham’s popularity,  who  thus  advanced  the  art 
of  medicine  far  more  than  by  any  discoveries 
of  his  own.— u Have  you  a mind  to  kill  my 
grandson  ? Is  this  the  affection  you  have 
always  expressed  for  his  person  ? His  grand- 
father and  I recovered  without  any  such  dan- 
gerous experiments  as  these  !”  said  the  Dowager 
duchess  of  Beaufort  to  Dr.  Radcliffe,  in  the 
most  violent  consternation  and  passion  ima- 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM,  M.D. 


23 


ginable,  when,  upon  visiting  her  grandson,  the 
duke,  in  the  small  pox,  he  ordered  the  cur- 
tains of  the  bed  to  be  drawn  and  light  to  be 
let  into  the  room  ; whereas  the  old  lady  had 
directed  his  grace’s  windows  to  be  shut  in  such 
a manner  as  almost  to  deprive  the  unhappy 
patient  of  the  means  of  respiration.  The  doctor 
assured  her  that  she  must  instantly  return  to 
her  house  at  Chelsea;  on  no  other  condition 
would  he  undertake  the  case,  and  she  would 
then  soon  be  visited  by  her  son  in  perfect 
health.  With  much  difficulty  this  great  lady 
was  persuaded  to  acquiesce;  but  she  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  her  son  within  the  time 
limited,  and  completely  recovered.  The  cool 
regimen  about  that  time  came  into  vogue.  The 
success  was  Radcliffe’s — the  merit  belonged  to 
Sydenham  alone. 

In  the  year  1665,  occurred  the  memorable 
plague  of  London.  Sydenham  remained  at  his 
post  till  about  the  month  of  June,  not  neglect- 
ing to  profit,  we  may  well  imagine,  by  his 
opportunities  of  observation.  At  this  time,  the 
pestilence  began  to  rage  so  dreadfully  that  it 
destroyed,  in  seven  days,  as  many  thousands. 
In  every  house  were  to  be  heard  either  the 
ravings  of  delirium,  the  groans  of  the  dying,  or 
the  lamentations  of  relatives,  till  at  length  the 
living  were  scarcely  sufficient  in  number  to 
perform  the  rites  of  burial.  “ Now,”  says  a 
contemporary  writer,  in  truly  graphic  language, 
u the  cloud  is  very  black,  and  the  storm  come? 
down  very  sharp.  Death  rides  triumphant  ou 


24 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


his  pale  horse  through  our  streets,  and  breaks 
into  almost  every  house  where  the  inhabitants 
are  to  be  found  ; people  fall  as  thick  as  leaves 
from  the  trees  in  autumn  when  shaken  by  a 
mighty  wind.  There  is  a dismal  solitude  in 
London  streets  ; every  day  looks  with  the  face 
of  a sabbath,  observed  with  a greater  solemnity 
than  it  used  to  be  in  the  city.  Shops  are  shut 
up;  people  rare,  and  few  that  Avalk  about, 
insomuch  that  grass  begins  to  grow  in  some 
places,  and  a deep  silence  in  almost  every  place, 
especially  within  the  city  walls.”*  The  practice 
which  Sydenham  adopted  was  to  bleed  very 
largely.  For  a short  period,  he  removed  his 
family  into  the  country,  and  himself  accom- 
panied them,  but  he  returned  so  soon,  and 
when  the  plague  still  continued  so  violent, 
that  it  could  not  but  be  (he  observes  with  his 
usual  modesty)  “ that  by  reason  of  the  scarcity 
of  better  physicians  I should  be  called  in  to 
the  assistance  of  those  who  had  the  disease.” 
Thus  he  witnessed  both  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  this  great  distemper. 

Sydenham’s  treatise  on  the  gout  has  usually 
been  considered  a masterpiece  of  description. 
It  was  a disease  with  which  he  had  an  ex- 
perimental acquaintance  from  the  early  age  of 
twenty-five ; and  he  speaks  of  a fit  with  which 
he  was  seized  in  1660,  when  he  was  only 
thirty-six,  which  was  very  violent,  and  con- 
tinued longer  than  any  preceding  attack. 
Towards  the  close  of  life,  he  was  at  the  same 

* “ God’s  terrible  Voice  in  the  City.” — Vincent. 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM,  M.D.  25 

time  troubled  with  another  equally  painful 
complaint — the  gravel.  This  complication  of 
disorders  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  be 
attentive  to  his  diet,  which  he  regulated,  he 
informs  us,  after  the  following  manner.  “ In 
the  morning,  when  I rise,  I drink  a dish  or  two 
of  tea,  and  then  ride  in  my  coach  till  noon  : 
when  I return  I moderately  refresh  myself 
with  any  sort  of  meat  of  easy  digestion,  that 
I like  (for  moderation  is  necessary  above  all 
things) ; I drink  somewhat  more  than  a quarter 
of  a pint  of  Canary  wine,  immediately  after 
dinner,  every  day,  to  promote  the  digestion  of 
the  food  in  my  stomach,  and  to  drive  the  gout 
from  my  bowels.  When  I have  dined  I betake 
myself  to  my  coach  again,  and,  when  business 
will  permit,  I ride  into  the  country  two  or 
three  miles  for  good  air.  A draught,  of  small 
beer  is  to  me  instead  of  a supper,  and  I take 
another  draught  when  I am  in  bed,  and  about 
to  compose  myself  to  sleep.”  The  treatise  in 
which  he  gives  us  this  little  insight  into  his 
ordinary  habits — not,  it  must  be  confessed,  very 
consonant  to  the  hours  or  manners  of  the  present 
day — was  the  last  published  in  his  life-time, 
and  he  concludes  it  by  observing  that  he  has 
now  given  to  the  world  the  sum  of  all  which 
he  knew  concerning  the  cure  of  diseases,  up  to 
the  day  on  which  he  wrote  it,  namely,  the 
29th  of  September,.  1686.  His  work  entitled 
“ Processus  Integri,”  the  compendious  result  of 
all  his  practical  experience,. was  published  after 
his  death.  Sydenham,  is  stated  to  have  sup- 
3 


26 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


ported  himself  under  his  bodily  infirmities  and 
sufferings  u by  the  reflections  of  philosophy, 
and  the  consolations  of  religion.”  He  finally 
sunk  on  the  29th  of  December,  1689,  at  his 
house  in  Pall  Mall,  and  was  buried  in  the  aisle 
near  the  south  door  of  the  church,  of  St.  James, 
Westminster.  The  epitaph  that  indicated  the 
spot  being  nearly  obliterated,  the  College  of 
Physicians,  in  the  year  1809,  erected  a monu- 
ment within  that  church,  as  nearly  as  possible 
to  the  place  of  interment,  with  a Latin  in- 
scription. 

Sydenham’s  practice  was  very  considerable. 
He  lived  in  the  first  degree  of  reputation,  and 
enjoyed  the  friendship  and  acquaintance  of 
many  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  day — 
amongst  others,  that  of  the  celebrated  Locke. 
He  was  not  in  favour  with  the  court,  but  this 
might  probably  have  been  owing  to  the  part 
he  took  in  the  civil  wars,  and  the  political 
opinions  of  his  brother,  William  Sydenham, 
who,  under  the  protectorate,  obtained  many 
high  appointments,  and  was  governor  of  the 
Isle  of  Wight.  But  he  was  never  an  eager 
candidate  for  popularity.  To  fulfil  the  duties 
of  his  profession  in  a conscientious  and  un- 
ostentatious manner  appears  to  have  been  his 
principal  aim;  and  the  following  sentence  on 
the  vanity  of  posthumous  fame,  in  the  epistle 
prefixed  to  his  chapter  on  gout,  was  most 
likely  the  expression  of  the  genuine  feelings  of 
his  heart : “I  do  not  much  value  public 
applause,  and,  indeed,  if  the  matter  be  rightly 


HERMANN  BOERRHAAVE,  M.D.  27 

’weighed,  the  providing  for  esteem  (I  being  now 
an  old  man)  will  be,  in  a short  time,  the  same 
as  to  provide  for  that  which  is  not ; for  what 
advantage  will  it  be  to  me  after  I am  dead, 
that  eight  alphabetical  elements,  reduced  into 
that  order  that  will  compose  my  name,  shall 
be  pronounced  by  those  who  come  after  me  ? ” 


HERMANN  BOERRHAAVE,  M.D. 

This  illustrious  physician  and  professor  was 
born  at  Voorhoot,  near  Leyden,  December  31, 
1668.  His  father  was  a clergyman,  and,  de- 
lighted with  his  son’s  precocity  and  rapid 
advance  in  every  branch  of  literature,  it  was 
his  most  anxious  wish  that  he  should  be 
dedicated  to  his  own  profession.  Accordingly, 
in  his  sixteenth  year  he  was  admitted  into  the 
University,  and,  in  1690,  took  a degree  in 
philosophy,  his  thesis  on  that  occasion  being 
an  able  and  argumentative  confutation  of  the 
sy stems  of  Epicurus,  Hobbes,  and  Spinoza. 
But  he  was  one  of  a very  numerous  family, 
and,  in  order  to  defray  the  farther  expense  of 
his  theological  studies,  was  compelled  to  teach 
mathematics.  This  circumstance  proved  ot 
lasting  benefit  to  him.  Not  only  did  it  tend 
to  increase  his  reputation,  but  it  was  the 
occasion  of  an  introduction  to  one  who  proved 
his  intimate  and  most  valuable  friend.  John 
Vandenburg,  burgomaster  of  Leyden,  speedily 


28 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


perceived  the  amazing  progress  he  had  made 
in  every  branch  of  knowledge  to  which  he  had 
directed  his  attention,  recommended  him  to 
the  curators  to  compare  the  Yossian  manu- 
scripts purchased  in  England  with  the  catalogue 
of  sale,  and  advised  him,  in  particular,  to  add 
the  study  of  the  sciences  connected  with 
medicine  to  those  of  which  he  was  already 
master.  Boerrhaave  thought  the  suggestion 
worth  attending  to,  but  determined  merely  to 
look  into  these  subjects  occasionally  as  a 
relaxation  from  his  severer  studies.  He  did 
so  ; but  so  captivated  was  he,  that  what  he 
first  proposed  as  an  amusement,  speedily 
became  a fixed  pursuit.  The  interest  he  took 
in  it  did  but  increase  with  the  advances  which 
he  made,  and  at  length  he  resolved  to  take  a 
degree  in  physic  before  his  ordination. 
Anatomy  was  now  his  first  object  of  attention. 
He  speedily  read  over  the  principal  authors, 
attended  the  public  anatomical  demonstrations, 
and  frequently  himself  dissected.  He  next 
applied  himself  to  the  writings  of  Hippocrates, 
to  whom  he  considered  the  older  authors  were 
principally  indebted,  and  to  our  own  illustrious 
countryman,  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
calling  the  “ immortal  Sydenham.”  He  after- 
wards made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
chemistry  of  his  age,  and  spent  whole  days 
and  nights  in  the  experimental  study  of  that 
fascinating  science.  In  botany,  he  made  an 
equal  proficiency.  After  this,  he  went  to 

the  University  of  Harderwick,  in  Guelder- 


HERMANN  BOERRHAAVE,  M.D.  29 

land,  and  graduated  in  medicine  in  the 
year  1693. 

All  this  time,  however,  his  intention  of 
entering  into  the  ministry  was  quite  unaltered, 
and  he  returned  to  Leyden  with  the  fixed  pur- 
pose of  commencing  the  sacred  duties  for 
which  he  had  been  destined,  when,  according 
to  his  biographer,  he  encountered,  all  at  once, 
an  invincible  obstruction  to  the  execution  of  it. 
In  the  passage-boat,  some  conversation  was 
accidentally  started  about  the  doctrine  of 
Spinoza,  as  subversive  of  all  religion.  One  of 
the  passengers — a man  of  a weak  and  ill- 
informed  mind — attempted  to  refute  it,  opposing 
to  this  pretended  philosopher’s  demonstrations, 
nothing  more  than  “ the  invectives  of  a blind 
and  misinformed  zeal.”  Boerrhaave  was 
always  an  enemy  to  triflers,  and,  somewhat 
imprudently  but  calmly,  asked  him  whether  he 
had  ever  read  the  works  of  the  author  he 
decried.  The  speaker  was  fired  with  resent- 
ment, upon  which  another  passenger  whispered 
to  the  person  next  him  to  ascertain  Boerr- 
liaave’s  name,  took  it  down  in  his  pocket-book, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  arrived  at  Leyden,  gave  it 
out  everywhere  that  Boerrhaave  was  become 
a Spinosist.  Finding  such  prejudices  gaining 
ground,  “he  now  thought  it  imprudent,”  we 
are  told,  “ to  risk  the  refusal  of  a licence  for  the 
pulpit  when  he  had  so  fair  a prospect  of  rising 
by  physic.” 

How  far  the  young  student  of  divinity  was 
justified  in  this  change  of  procedure,  instead  of 
3* 


30 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


boldly  declaring  on  whose  side  he  was,  and 
whom  he  wished  to  serve,  we  have  not  suffi- 
cient means  of  knowing.  Nor  does  it  appear 
what  at  this  time  was  the  extent  of  his  religious 
perceptions.  The  accounts  given  of  him  by  his 
contemporaries  consist,  after  the  manner  of  the 
times,  of  such  a tissue  of  fulsome  panegyric — 
as  though  the  subject  of  them  were  something 
much  more  than  an  ordinary  mortal — that  it  is 
difficult  to  arrive  at  the  real  traits  of  his  cha- 
racter. Great,  however,  he  undoubtedly  became 
as  a man  of  science,  a scholar,  and  a physician. 
His  reputation  rapidly  pervaded  all  Europe. 
Princes,  ambassadors,  and  Peter  the  Great  him- 
self, were  compelled  to  wait  hours  in  his  ante- 
chamber to  obtain  even  an  interview  with  him. 
And,  we  believe,  it  may  with  truth  be  added, 
that  he  was  among  the  few  of  the  "wise  of  this 
world,  wrho,  amidst  all  their  intellectual  attain- 
ments, have  not  neglected  that  knowledge  which 
“maketh  wise”  unto  everlasting  salvation. 

It  was  his  constant  habit  to  devote  the  first 
hour  of  every  day  to  prayer  and  meditation  on 
the  word  of  God — a practice  which  he  recom- 
mended to  others,  declaring  that  he  derived 
from  it  a vigour  which  carried  him  through  all 
the  toils  of  his  profession.  A friend,  seeing 
him  unmoved  by  great  provocation,  asked 
whether  it  was  by  nature  or  by  art  that  he 
maintained  such  equanimity.  He  attributed 
the  conquest  to  the  above  habit  alone.  Baron 
Haller  speaks  of  him  in  the  following  language : 
“ Fifty  years  are  now  elapsed  since  I was  the 


HERMANN  BOERRHAAVE,  M.D.  31 

disciple  of  the  immortal  Boerrhaave,  but  his 
image  is  constantly  present  to  my  mind.  I 
have  always  before  my  eyes  the  venerable 
simplicity  of  that  great  man,  who  possessed  in 
an  eminent  degree  the  powers  of  persuasion. 
How  often  have  I heard  him  say,  when  he 
spoke  of  the  precepts  of  the  gospel,  that  the 
Divine  Teacher  of  it  had  much  more  knowledge 
of  the  human  heart  than  Socrates  ! He  parti- 
cularly alluded  to  that  sentence  in  the  New 
Testament,  4 Whosoever  looketh  upon  a woman,’ 
etc.  Matt.  v.  28;  4 for,’  added  my  illustrious 
master,  4 the  first  attacks  of  Vice  are  always 
feeble;  reason  has  then  some  power  over  the 
mind.  It  is  then  in  this  very  moment  that 
such  thoughts  occur  as  have  a tendency  to 
withdraw  us  from  our  duty,  that,  if  we  with 
diligence  suppress  them,  and  turn  our  attention 
to  something  else,  we  may  avoid  the  approach- 
ing danger,  and  not  fall  into  the  temptations  of 
vice.’  ” Whether  it  be  the  fault  of  the  disciple 
or  the  preceptor,  the  above  sentiment,  however 
just,  is  not  clothed,  it  must  be  confessed,  in 
language  so  forcible  as  the  subject  appears  to 
demand.  The  direction  with  which  it  closes  is 
especially  feeble  and  inadequate,  as  containing 
no  allusion  to  a strength  superior  to  that  of 
sinful  humanity.  But  we  have  reason  to  hope, 
from  one  anecdote  related  by  his  biographer — 
far  more  frigid  still  as  he  is  in  his  expressions 
with  reference  to  religion — that  Boerrhaave 
had  deeper  views  of  it  than  would  seem  to  be 
implied  in  the  above  quotation,  and  other  pas- 


32 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


sages  that  might  be  transcribed: — “ When  he 
heard,”  says  he,  “ of  a criminal  condemned  to 
die,  he  inculcated  the  reflection,  1 May  not  this 
be  a better  man  than  I?  If  otherwise,  the  praise 
is  not  due  to  me,  but  to  the  grace  of  God.’  ” 
His  resignation  to  the  will  of  God  was  likewise 
exemplary.  A deviation  from  this  state  ot 
submission,  when  he  had  been  racked  with 
incredible  torture  for  fifteen  hours  successively, 
gave  him,  on  one  occasion,  great  concern.  He 
had  prayed  earnestly  that  the  disease  might  put 
a period  to  his  life  and  misery.  A friend  sug- 
gested, by  way  of  consolation,  that  a request, 
under  such  circumstances,  was  not  only  natural 
to  human  frailty,  but  precedented  by  the  case 
of  Job.  But  Boerrhaave  checked  himself  by 
saying,  “ This  maxim,  however,  I wish  to  abide 
by,  living  and  dying,  ‘ That  only  is  best,  and 
alone  to  be  desired,  which  is  perfectly  agreeable 
to  the  Divine  Goodness  and  Majesty.’  ” 

In  the  year  1701,  not  very  long  after  Boerr- 
haave had  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  became  lecturer  on  the  institutes  of 
physic.  In  1709,  the  professorship  of  medicine 
and  botany  was  conferred  upon  him.  In  1714, 
he  arrived  at  the  highest  dignity  in  the  univer- 
sity— the  rectorship.  No  professor  was  ever 
attended,  in  public  as  well  as  private  lectures, 
by  so  great  a number  of  students,  from  such 
different  and  distant  parts,  for  so  many  years 
successively.  He  indulged,  it  is  true,  in  theo- 
ries, many  of  which  in  the  present  day  excite  a 
smile  ; but  the  world  was  not  then  accustomed 


HERMANN  BOERRHAAVE,  M.D.  33 

to  the  Baconian  method  of  deduction  from  facts 
only.  In  practice  he  was  successful,  and 
amassed  great  wealth  ; but  he  is  reported  to 
have  been  liberal  to  the  distressed,  though 
without  ostentation ; and  his  manner  of  obliging 
his  friends  was  such,  that  they  often  knew  not, 
unless  by  accident,  to  whom  they  were  indebted. 
Music  and  gardening  were  his  constant  sources 
of  amusement  and  relaxation.  Having  suffered 
several  severe  attacks  of  illness,  he  found  him- 
self under  the  necessity,  in  the  year  1729,  of 
resigning  the  professorships  of  botany  and 
chemistry.  Yet,  in  private  labours  he  was 
not  less  assiduous,  till  the  year  1737,  when  a 
difficulty  of  breathing  first  seized  him,  and 
afterwards  gradually  increased.  In  a letter 
written  at  this  time  to  baron  Bassaud,  he  writes 
thus  of  himself:  “An  imposthumation  of  the 
lungs,  which  has  daily  increased  for  the  last 
three  months,  almost  suffocates  me  on  the  least 
motion ; if  it  should  continue  to  increase  with- 
out breaking,  I must  sink  under  it;  if  it  should 
break,  the  event  is  still  dubious : happen  what 
may,  why  should  I be  concerned?  since  it  can- 
not be  but  according  to  the  will  of  the  supreme 
Being,  what  else  should  I desire  ? God  be 
praised!  In  the  mean  time,  I am  not  wanting 
in  the  use  of  the  most  approved  remedies,  in 
order  to  mitigate  the  disease  by  maturation, 
but  am  no  ways  anxious  about  the  success  of 
them  : I have  lived  to  upwards  of  sixty-eight 
years  and  always  cheerful.”  After  this,  from 
the  unusual  pulsations  of  the  artery  in  the  right 


: 

34  EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 

side  of  the  neck,  and  intermissions  of  the  pulse, 
he  apprehended  there  were  polypous  concre- 
tions between  the  heart  and  lungs,  and  wrote 
an  account  of  his  case  to  Dr.  Mortimer,  secre- 
tary of  the  Royal  Society.  For  some  days,  there 
were  flattering  hopes  of  his  recovery,  but  they 
soon  vanished,  and  he  died  on  the  23rd  of 
September,  1738. 

Not  long  before  he  died,  he  told  his  friends 
that  he  had  never  doubted  of  the  spiritual  and 
immaterial  nature  of  the  soul ; but  that,  in  a 
very  severe  illness  with  which  he  was  afflicted, 
he  had  a kind  of  experimental  certainty  of  the 
distinction  between  corporeal  and  thinking  sub- 
stances, which  mere  reason  and  philosophy 
cannot  supply,  and  had  opportunities  of  con- 
templating the  wonderful  and  inexplicable 
union  of  soul  and  body.  This  he  illustrated  by 
the  effects  which  the  infirmities  of  his  body  had 
upon  his  faculties,  “ which  yet  they  did  not  so 
oppress  and  vanquish,  but  that  his  soul  was 
always  master  of  itself,  and  always  resigned  to 
the  pleasure  of  its  Author.” 

The  works  of  Boerrhaave  were  both  numerous 
and  elaborate.  Amongst  these,  his  “ Institu- 
tions” and  “ Aphorisms,”  his  works  on  botany 
and  chemistry,  and  his  “ Opuscula,”  were  the 
most  important. 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


35 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 

This  venerable  man  was  not  more  distinguished 
by  eminent  professional  talent  than  by  Chris  - 
tian  integrity.  With  the  most  unfeigned  truth 
may  it  be  said  of  him,  that  he  feared  and  served 
God  in  his  youth ; that  he  made  a diligent  use 
of  the  various  talents  with  which  he  was  in- 
trusted  throughout  a long  and  chequered  pil- 
grimage; and  that  his  “ hoary  head  was  a 
crown  of  glory,”  because  he  was  still  “ found 
in  the  way  of  righteousness.” 

Mr.  Hey  was  born  at  the  village  of  Pudsey, 
near  Leeds,  on  the  23rd  of  August,  1736.  At 
the  age  of  four  years,  he  received  an  irreparable 
injury.  As  he  was  cutting  a piece  of  string, 
the  edge  of  the  penknife  being  directed  upwards 
towards  his  face,  on  dividing  the  string,  the 
point  of  the  knife  entered  his  right  eye,  and 
totally  destroyed  its  power  of  vision.  His  father 
was  much  affected  by  the  simplicity  of  his 
reply  to  a question  respecting  the  sight  of  the 
injured  eye.  “ He  saw  light,”  he  said,  “ with 
one  eye  and  darkness  with  the  other.”  The 
sight  of  the  left  eye  was,  however,  remarkably 
good  even  to  a very  late  period  of  life — so  much 
so,  that  he  was  always  able  to  read  small  print 
without  the  aid  of  glasses.  We  may  readily 
imagine  that  he  speedily  gave  indications  of 
that  singular  vivacity  and  mental  vigour  which 
added  a charm  even  to  his  declining  years. 


36 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


Into  every  branch  of  science  he  made  early 
inquiries,  and  some  lectures  which  he  heard  at 
school  on  natural  philosophy,  are  said  to  have 
riveted  his  attention  in  a particular  manner. 
After  the  usual  routine  of  a school  education, 
he  was  placed,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  as  an 
apprentice  with  Mr.  Dawson,  a surgeon  and 
apothecary,  at  Leeds. 

The  parents  of  Mr.  Hey  had  carefully  trained 
him,  from  his  earliest  years,  in  habits  of  strict 
attention  to  moral  principle,  and  a regard  to  the 
outward  duties  of  religion.  From  the  com- 
mencement of  his  apprenticeship,  he  never 
omitted  prayer  on  rising  in  the  morning  and 
retiring  at  night.  This  exposed  him  to  the 
scoffs  and  ridicule  of  his  fellow- apprentice, 
who  would  introduce  the  servant  boy  into  the 
bedroom  to  join  in  his  mockery  of  this  religious 
service;  but  he  was  not  to  be  thus  intimidated, 
and  his  firmness  and  perseverance  induced  them 
at  length  to  desist.  As  yet,  however,  he  had 
acquired  no  correct  notions  of  the  leading  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible,  for  in  conversation  with  a 
young  friend,  who  was  pressing  on  his  attention 
the  necessity  of  disclaiming  all  merit  and  rely- 
ing solely  on  the  mercy  and  grace  of  the  Re- 
deemer for  salvation,  he  exclaimed,  with  some 
surprise,  “ What!  are  we  not  to  do  our  duty  ?” — 
so  little  perception  had  he  then  of  that  inward 
change  of  mind,  which  the  blessed  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith  only  in  the  righteousness 
and  atonement  of  the  Lord  Jesus  invariably 
produces,  if  it  be  but  simply  and  sincerely 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ.  37 

embraced  : — “ With  the  heart  man  believeth 
unto  righteousness.”  But  this  doubtful  mental 
twilight  was  about  to  yield  to  the  dawn  of  a 
brighter  day:  “ Then  shall  we  know,  if  we 
follow  on  to  know  the  Lord.”  He  was  at  this 
period  in  the  habit  also  of  retiring  at  convenient 
seasons  to  study  the  holy  Scriptures;  and  on 
one  of  those  occasions,  while  reading  the  5th 
chapter  of  the  2nd  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
his  attention  was  forcibly  arrested  by  the  17th 
verse,  “ If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a new 
creature : old  things  are  passed  away ; behold, 
all  things  are  become  new.”  In  reflecting  on 
these  words,  a series  of  considerations  arose  in 
his  mind,  in  the  course  of  which,  doubtless 
under  the  teaching  of  God’s  Holy  Spirit,  he  was 
led  to  a right  knowledge  of  himself  as  a sinner 
— of  the  only  way  of  salvation — of  the  neces- 
sity of  an  entire  renewal  of  the  inward  man. 
Scenes  of  worldly  gaiety  and  amusement  began 
forthwith  to  lose  their  accustomed  attraction. 
His  thoughts  were  now  chiefly  occupied,  and 
his  affections  engaged,  by  invisible  and  eternal 
realities.  At  first,  as  he  once  remarked  in 
conversation  with  an  intimate  friend,  his  mind 
was  not  so  deeply  impressed  by  a sense  of  the 
great  evil  of  sin,  as  attracted  by  .an  apprehen- 
sion of  the  beauty  and  excellence  of  holiness. 
What  chiefly  affected  him  was  the  love  of  God 
manifested  in  the  redemption  of  a sinful  world 
by  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  Divine  wisdom  dis- 
played in  the  dispensations  of  providence  and 
grace.  Certain  it  is,  that,  at  this  time,  he  entered 
4 


38 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


upon  a course  from  which  nothing  afterwards 
ever  induced  him  to  turn  aside.  He  became 
the  willing  and  consistent  and  unflinching  dis- 
ciple of  Divine  truth,  daily  growing  in  grace 
and  in  the  knowledge  of  his  Lord  and  Saviour. 
His  religious  views  and  habits  did  not  escape 
the  notice  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dawson,  who  consi- 
dered him  unnecessarily  precise,  and  suspected 
that  the  tenets  he  had  adopted  were  not  a little 
tinctured  with  enthusiasm.  On  one  occasion, 
Mrs.  D.  undertook  to  expostulate  with  him  on 
the  subject  of  his  religious  sentiments.  The 
reply  he  made  was  calm  and  conciliating.  He 
frankly  avowed  his  views  of  the  nature  of  true 
religion,  and  on  this,  as  on  many  following 
occasions,  referred  to  the  Articles  and  Liturgy  of 
the  Church  of  England,  as  sufficient  evidence 
that  the  principles  he  maintained  wTere  exactly 
those  for  which  the  reformers  contended  as  the 
pure  doctrines  of  the  sacred  writings.  These 
conversations  convinced  Mrs.  D.  that  his  senti- 
ments were  not  without  foundation.  He  read 
to  her  several  religious  works,  no  book  engaging 
more  of  their  attention  than  the  il  Rise  and 
Progress  of  Religion,”  by  Dr.  Doddridge;  and 
Mrs.  D.  became  finally,  not  only  a convert  to 
his  opinions, .but  an  imitator  of  his  piety,  and 
continued  his  steady  and  affectionate  friend  to 
the  end  of  life. 

In  the  autumn  of  1757,  Mr.  Hey  went  to 
London  to  complete  his  professional  education. 
Attached  to  his  studies,  actuated  by  an  ardent 
thirst  for  knowledge,  and  steadily  determined 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


39 


to  become  master  of  every  subject  to  which  he 
applied,  it  was,  at  the  same  time,  a matter  of 
conscience  with  him,  to  acquire  a thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  profession  he  was  to 
exercise.  “ 1 would  spare  no  pains  to  qualify 
myself  for  that  state  of  life  to  which  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  called  me,  and  then  trust  him 
with  the  success  of  my  endeavours — Such 
was  the  maxim  by  which  he  was  actuated. 
His  first  winter  was  devoted  to  anatomy,  and 
seldom  did  he  employ  less  than  twelve  hours 
daily  in  the  lecture  and  dissecting-rooms.  But 
this  unwearied  application  qualified  him  for 
deriving  many  superior  advantages  from  his 
subsequent  attendance  on  hospital  practice. 
His  youthful  companions  in  study  would  treat 
his  seriousness  with  mockery,  and  sneer  at  the 
correctness  of  his  conduct ; yet  they  were  con- 
strained to  allow  the  soundness  of  his  under- 
standing, and  his  superior  attainments  in 
professional  knowledge.  They  frequently  ap- 
plied to  him  in  matters  of  difficulty,  and  ever 
found  him  as  cheerfully  ready  as  he  was  able, 
to  assist  them  in  their  inquiries,  and  to  aid 
and  encourage  them  in  their  several  pursuits. 
“ Kemember,”  said  he  in  a letter  to  his  son, 
written  forty  years  afterwards,  u that  one  talent 
is  to  be  improved  as  well  as  ten.  When  I was 
a student  I always  endeavoured  to  be  at  the 
head  of  my  class.  This  diligence  insured  me 
the  regard  of  my  teachers,  and  preserved  me 
from  many  rude  attacks  from  my  equals.  This 
I experienced  very  much,  when  engaged  in  my 


40 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


medical  studies  in  London,  where  I could  not 
meet  with  one  religious  young  man  in  my  own 
profession.  But  as  I took  such  pains,  that  my 
fellow-students  were  obliged  to  consult  me  in 
their  difficulties,  I preserved  a considerable 
check  upon  their  conduct.  A religious  young 
man,  who  followed  me,  did  not  escape  so  well. 
His  fellow-students,  at  St.  George’s  Hospital, 
tossed  him  in  a blanket.” 

It  is  said  to  have  been  during  the  period  of 
his  studies  in  London,  that  Mr.  Hey  undertook 
the  very  difficult  task  of  systematically  govern- 
ing his  thoughts,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a 
valuable  habit,  which  remained  with  him  to  the 
end  of  life.  He  determined  that  he  would 
meditate  on  a given  subject,  while  he  was 
walking  to  a certain  distance,  and  that  then  he 
would  turn  his  attention  to  some  other  topic; 
and  he  was  thus  accustomed  to  pass  through 
the  streets  of  London,  investigating  the  various 
subjects  to  which  his  thoughts  had  been  direpted 
by  the  lectures  or  other  professional  occupa^ 
tions.  He  found  this  acquirement  of  the  greatest 
use,  not  only  in  preserving  him  from  a swarm 
of  vain  thoughts,  but  in  enabling  him  to  form  a 
correct  judgment  on  many  points  of  Divine  and 
human  knowledge.  The  same  kind  of  accuracy 
was  observed  in  his  conversation.  He  would 
often  discuss  a subject  with  a friend  as  they 
rode  in  his  carriage.  In  the  midst  of  the  con- 
versation, Mr.  Hey  would  alight  to  see  a patient ; 
and,  although  this  circumstance  occurred  fre- 
quently, he  never  failed  to  resume  the  subject 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


41 


at  the  very  sentence  where  it  had  bee^i  broken 
off,  and  so  continued  the  argument.  While 
yet  a student,  Mr.  Hey  likewise  accustomed 
himself  to  the  observance  of  certain  rules  for 
the  distribution  of  his  several  employments  and 
the  improvement  of  his  time.  He  rose  early, 
and  so  arranged  his  occupations  that  a parti- 
cular portion  of  the  day  was  appropriated  to 
each.  On  the  Sunday,  he  never  went  to  the 
dissecting-room,  nor  would  he  accept  any  in- 
vitation to  visit,  that  he  might  experience  no 
interruption  in  the  “ holy  duties”  and  “holy 
pleasures  ” of  that  “ sacred  rest.”  He  has  been 
often  heard  to  say,  that  his  sabbaths  were  the 
happiest  of  his  days  during  his  residence  in 
London,  and  that  the  complete  suspension  of  all 
secular  pursuits  prepared  him  to  resume  his 
studies  with  renewed  ardour  and  activity.  On 
leaving  London  he  reflected,  with  emotions  of 
gratitude,  on  the  goodness  of  God.  His  health 
had  suffered  no  interruption  by  constant  and 
intense  application  to  study.  His  religious 
principles  had  not  been  impaired ; and  he  had 
been  preserved  from  falling  by  the  various 
temptations  to  which  his  situation  had  exposed 
him.  Hence  he  was  induced  to  express  him- 
self in  the  words  of  the  psalmist,  “ He  hath 
showed  me  his  marvellous  kindness  in  a strong 
city,”  Psa.  xxxi.  21. 

Shortly  after  Mr.  Hey’s  return  from  London, 
he  entered  upon  practice  as  a surgeon  and 
apothecary  at  Leeds,  and  was  united  in  mar- 
riage, on  the  30th  of  July,  1761,  to  Miss  Alice 
4* 


42 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


Banks  ; a connexion  which  was  the  source  of  a 
large  amount  of  domestic  happiness.  From  the 
time  he  first  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his 
profession,  he  treated  the  most  serious  accidents ; 
and,  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  medical 
practitioners  of  Leeds  at  that  time,  performed 
all  surgical  operations  that  were  necessary, 
never  declining  any  cases  which  presented 
themselves  on  account  of  their  difficulty  or 
danger.  Yet  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  usual 
struggles  of  early  professional  life;  his  progress 
was  very 'slow;  his  range  of  practice  narrowly 
circumscribed;  and  nearly  ten  years  elapsed 
before  the  regular  emoluments  of  it  were  equal 
to  the  expenses  of  his  family.  Very  little  was 
he  then  disposed  to  anticipate  the  reputation 
which  he  afterwards  acquired,  and  the  long  and 
successful  career  that  awaited  him.  No  public 
institution  for  the  relief  of  the  sick  existed  at 
that  time  at  Leeds.  In  the  year  1767,  an  in- 
firmary was  established,  in  the  formation  of 
which  Mr.  Hey  took  an  active  part,  and  of 
which  he  was  immediately  appointed  one  of  the 
medical  officers,  and,  in  a few  years,  became  the 
senior  surgeon.  This  establishment  opened  a 
wide  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  professional 
talent. 

About  the  same  time,  a very  friendly  inter- 
course commenced  between  Mr.  Hey  and  a 
man  of  very  opposite  religious  sentiments.  Dr. 
Joseph  Priestley  then  resided  in  Leeds,  and 
finding  Mr.  Hey  possessed  a congenial  mind 
with  his  own  on  scientific  subjects,  and  was 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


43 


well  acquainted  with  the  chemistry  of  that 
period,  he  conferred  much  with  him  on  the 
subject  of  the  various  pursuits  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  and  always  imparted  to  him  the  dis- 
coveries he  made  in  the  properties  of  gases,  to 
which  his  attention  was  at  that  time  principally 
directed.  Dr.  Priestley  was  likewise  induced 
to  alter  and  correct  his  opinions  on  vision,  light, 
and  colours,  in  consequence  of  the  facts  and 
arguments  suggested  to  him  by  Mr.  Hey.  The 
high  opinion  which  Dr.  P.  entertained  of  the 
talents  and  acquirements  of  Mr  Hey,  induced 
him  to  propose  his  name  for  admission  to  the 
Royal  Society,  of  which  he  . was  elected  fellow; 
and  in  a letter  apprising  him  of  that  distinction, 
he  remarks,  “ I wish  I could  say  that  one  of 
the  members  in  ten  had  equal  pretensions  to 
it.”  In  the  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Priestley,  the  fol- 
lowing notice  occurs:  “ The  only  person  in 
Leeds  who  gave  much  attention  to  my  experi- 
ments was  Mr.  Hey,  a surgeon.  He  was  ^a 
zealous  Methodist,*  and  wrote  answers  to  some 
of  my  theological  tracts  ; but  we  always  con- 
versed with  the  greatest  freedom  on  philoso- 
phical subjects,  without  mentioning  anything 
relating  to  theology.  When  I left  Leeds,  he 
begged  of  me  the  earthen  trough  in  which  I 
had  made  all  my  experiments  while  I was 

• In  whatever  sense  Dr.  Priestley  used  this  expression,  it  is 
strictly  true  that  Mr.  Hey  was,  in  early  life,  for  several  years  a 
member  of  the  society  of  Wesleyan  Methodists.  After  leaving 
them,  he  continued  a member  of  the  Established  Church  till 
his  death. 


44 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


there.*^*  The  “ answers  to  tracts,”  here  referred 
to,  were  entitled  11  A Defence  of  the  Divinity  of 
Christ,”  and  u A short  Defence  of  the  Doctrine  of 
the  Atonement.”  “ The  occasion  of  my  writing 
the  short  defences,”  says  Mr.  Hey,  in  a letter 
written  some  years  after,  “ was  as  follows.  A 
large  number  of  penny  pamphlets  against  the 
leading  doctrines  of  Christianity  were  published 
here,  and  were  circulated  with  great  industry.” 
(These  were  written  by  Dr.  Priestley,  but 
without  his  name.)  “ A very  zealous  man,  but 
a wild  enthusiast,  who  lived  here,  then  pub- 
lished an  answer,  which  Dr.  Priestley  seemed 
to  glory  in.  Indeed,  it  wTas  most  injudiciously 
written.  Other  short  answers  afterwards  came 
out,  but  these  were  so  defective  in  argument,  as 
well  as  acrid  in  style,  that  they  were  clearly  a 
matter  of  triumph  to  the  Socinians.”  . . . “ I 
first  intended  to  have  published  three  penny 
pamphlets  on  the  subjects  of  the  divinity  of 
Christ,  the  atonement,  and  man’s  moral  depra- 
vity. But  the  two  first  swelling  out  unavoidably 
beyond  my  design,  I would  not  any  further 
break  in  upon  my  professional  studies.  What 
I have  said  proceeded  from  the  fullest  con- 
viction of  my  judgment.  I wish  it  may  do 
good.” 

In  the  year  1773,  Mr.  Hey  received  an  injury 
in  his  knee  by  striking  it  against  the  stone- 
work of  a bath,  the  effects  of  which  accident 
were  aggravated  soon  after,  by  his  horse  falling 
with  him.  These  injuries  laid  the  foundation 

4 Memoirs  of  Dr.  Joseph  Priestley,  etc.,  p 63. 


45 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 

of  a lameness  which  continued  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  But  about  three  years 
afterwards  he  received  a stroke  upon  the  thigh 
of  the  weak  limb,  which,  for  a time,  threatened 
to  terminate  his  professional  labours.  He  was 
now,  when  in  the  full  tide  of  prosperity  and 
reputation  as  a surgeon,  totally  disabled  from 
using  all  bodily  exertion,  and  it  appeared  pro- 
bable that  he  would  never  regain  the  power  of 
walking.  Deeply  was  he  affected  by  this  afflict- 
ive dispensation,  but  he  was  enabled  to  sustain 
it  with  a meek  acquiescence  in  the  Divine  will, 
and  reliance  upon  the  gracious  declaration  of 
his  heavenly  Father.  “ If  it  be  the  will  of 
God,”  said  he  to  an  intimate  friend,  “ that  I 
should  be  confined  to  my  sofa,  and  he  command 
me  to  pick  straws  during  the  remainder  of  my 
life,  I hope  I should  feel  no  repugnance  to  his 
good  pleasure.”  After  a long  residence  at  Bath, 
he  was,  however,  able  once  more  to  resume  his 
practice,  with  the  assistance  of  a carriage ; but 
from  this  period  he  was  never  able  to  walk  with- 
out a crutch,  and  could  not  bear  the  fatigue  of 
standing  more  than  a few  minutes  at  a time. 

But  other  trials  now  awaited  Mr.  Hey,  cal- 
culated yet  more  keenly  to  exercise  his  faith 
and  patience,  as  a parent  as  well  as  a Christian. 
His  eldest  son,  Mr.  Bichard  Hey,  had  just  com- 
pleted his  medical  education,  and  commenced 
assisting  his  father  in  the  anxieties  and  fatigues 
of  his  now  very  extensive  practice,  when  he 
was  attacked  with  symptoms  of  pulmonary 
consumption.  The  progress  of  the  disease  had 


46 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


been  so  silent  and  insidious,  that  the  day  of  his 
marriage  had  been  fixed,  and  preparations  made 
for  its  celebration,  before  the  indications  of 
actual  danger  were  apparent  to  himself  or 
others.  The  disease  proceeded  with  unrelenting 
rapidity,  and  he  fell  a sacrifice  to  it,  in  the 
twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  Miss  Alice  Hey, 
Mr.  Hey’s  third  daughter,  was,  within  a few 
years  after,  attacked  by  a pulmonic  complaint, 
which  terminated  fatally.  About  this  time,  his 
two  sons,  John  and  Eobert,  both  intended  for 
the  church,  were  pursuing  their  studies  at 
Cambridge.  John  took  a seventh  wrangler’s 
degree,  and  was  elected  fellow  and  tutor  of 
Magdalen  College.  But  his  ministerial  duties, 
to  which-  he  devoted  himself  with  unwearied 
diligence,  proved  too  much  for  his  strength  ; 
the  insidious  approaches  of  consumption  under- 
mined his  health,  and,  just  when  he  was  about 
to  be  united  to  the  object  of  his  early  affection, 
it  was  but'' too  apparent  that  he  also  must  soon 
be  summoned  to  relinquish  every  earthly  con- 
nexion. He  perceived  his  danger,  and,  adopting 
the  language  of  his  Saviour  as  the  expression 
of  his  heart,  a The  cup  which  my  Father  hath 
given  me  shall  I not  drink  it?”  he  died/ deeply 
lamented  by  all  who  knew  him,  January  14th, 
1 80 1 , in  the  t wenty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  Eobert 
Hey  was  an  amiable  young  man,  and  endowed 
with  no  mean  talents ; but  a long  series  of  ill 
health  interrupted  his  progress  in  learning. 
He  was  but  just  able  to  support  his  examina- 
tion in  the  senate-house,  when  he  was  seized 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


47 


with  spitting  of  blood,  which  terminated  in  a 
consumption,  on  May  14th,  1802,  when  in  the 
twenty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  Mr..  Hey  experi- 
enced all  that  a parent  could  feel  under  these 
successive  disappointments  of  his  hopes  and  ex- 
pectations ; but  he  was  at  the  same  time  cheered 
and  refreshed  by  the  persuasion  that  to  his 
children  might  be  applied  those  consoling 
■words  heard  from  heaven,  “ Blessed  are  the 
dead  which  die  in  the  Lord;”  and  he  was  wont 
to  say,  that  his  ultimate  end  respecting  them 
was  answered,  inasmuch  as  he  had  trained 
them  up  to  become  inhabitants  of  that  kingdom 
into  which,  he  trusted,  they  had  been  mercifully 
received.  On  the  gravestone,  of  John  he  in- 
serted these  words,  “ O death,  -where  is  thy 
sting?”  On  that  of  Robert,  “ O grave,  where 
is  thy  victory?”  The  following  extracts  from  a 
memorial,  composed  on  the  morning  of  the  day 
on  -which  the  remains  of  his  son  Robert  Hey 
were  committed  to  the  tomb,  present  a striking 
and  affecting  view  of  the  state  of  Mr.  Hey’s 
mind  under  that  affliction : — “ O most  holy  and 
glorious  Lord  God,  who  hast  declared  thyself 
gracious  and  merciful,  long-suffering,  and  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  truth,  permit  thy  guilty 
creature  to  approach  thee  through  the  mediation 
of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  When  I consider 
myself , I can  draw  near  unto  thee  with  no  other 
language  than  that  of  the  publican,  1 God  be 
merciful  to  me  a sinner,’  and  with  no  other' 
plea,  than  that  Jesus  hath  died  for  my  sins,  and 
is  risen  again  for  my  justification.”  . . . “ But 


48 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


at  this  time  I would  offer  my  most  hearty  and 
solemn  thanksgiving  for  the  mercies  shown  to 
my  dear  children.  Four  of  them  thou  wast 
pleased  to  call  out  of  this  dangerous  and  sinful 
world  during  the  state  of  infancy,  and  I humbly 
hope  thou  didst  receive  them  to  glory.  Con- 
cerning other  four,  whom  thou  hast  called 
hence  in  adult  age,  thou  hast  graciously  given 
me  the  most  solid  hopes.  Though  by  nature 
children  of  wrath  even  as  others,  thou  wast 
pleased  to  awaken  them  to  a sense  of  the  odious 
nature  of  sin,  and  to  grant  them  true  repent- 
ance. They  were  early  taught  by  thy  grace  to 
flee  for  refuge  to  the  Friend  of  sinners:  and 
thou  didst  prolong  their  lives  till  they  had  given 
clear  proofs  of  a sound  conversion.  Though 
prepared,  as  I hoped,  to  glorify  thee  on  earth, 
thou  didst  dispense  with  their  services,  and 
didst  remove  them  hence  in  the  beginning  of 
their  usefulness.  But  thy  grace  was  with  them. 
In  their  sickness  arid  at  the  approach  of  death, 
they  were  enabled  to  rejoice  in  thy  salvation. 
The  last  of  them  I am  about  to  commit  this 
day  to  the  silent  grave,  but  in  sure  and  certain 
hope  of  a joyful  resurrection  to  eternal  life. 
What  shall  I render  to  thee  for  all  thy  mercies? 
O that  my  future  life  might  more  abundantly 
show  forth  thy  praise!  I commit  those  of  my 
children,  who  yet  remain,  to  thy  fatherly  care. 
O Lord,  watch  over  them,  and  preserve  them 
from  the  evil  that  is  in  the  world!  Enable 
them  to  glorify  thee  in  the  midst  of  a crooked 
and  perverse  generation.  And  whenever  they 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


49 


shall  be  called  hence,  may  they  join  their 
deceased  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  world  of 
holiness  and  bliss,  there  to  magnify  the  wonders 
of  redeeming  love  for  ever!” 

But  Mr.  Key’s  cup  of  sorrow  was  not  yet 
full.  He  was,  not  long  after,  deprived  by  death 
of  his  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  William  Hey,  who 
left  a young  family  to  mourn  their  irreparable 
loss.  And,  to  conclude  the  mournful  detail, 
before  many  years  more  had  passed,  symptoms 
of  consumption  made  their  appearance  in  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Jarratt,  who  was  likewise  re- 
moved from  her  afflicted  husband  and  seven 
children,  some  of  them  very  young.  The  fol- 
lowing interesting  and  affecting  letter,  written 
to  Mrs.  Jarratt,  very  shortly  before  her  death, 
forcibly  depicts  those  sources  of  consolation 
which  sustained  his  own  mind  as  well  as  that  of 
his  beloved  daughter: — 

“My  dear  Margaret, 

“ Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  be 
afraid;  your  Redeemer  is  gone  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you : and  he  will  shortly  take  you  to 
himself,  that  where  he  is  there  you  may  be  also. 
In  his  presence  is  the  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  his 
right  hand  are  pleasures  for  evermore.  Take 
up  the  words  of  the  prophet,  and  say,  i I will 
trust  and  not  be  afraid:  for  the  Lord  Jehovah 
is  my  strength  and  my  song ; he  also  is  become 
my  salvation.’ — ‘ The  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in 
them  that  fear  him,  in  those  that  hope  in  his 
mercy.’  You  may,  therefore,  cheerfully  join  the 
psalmist  in  his  song  of  praise:  ‘ Though  I walk 
5 


50 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I will 
fear  no  evil : for  thou  art  with  me ; thy  rod  and 
thy  staff  they  comfort  me.’  The  state  into  which 
it  has  pleased  the  all-wise  Disposer  of  all  events 
to  bring  you,  calls  for  entire  submission  to  his 
will,  and  a patient  enduring  of  all  that  you  may 
suffer.  But  the  promise  is  faithful  and  sure, 
that  all  things  shall  1 work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God.’  Whence  comes  the  desire 
to  please  and  the  fear  to  offend  him?  Doubt- 
less from  love.  Whence  the  desire  to  be  assured 
of  his  favour?  From  love  assuredly.  We  are 
careless  about  the  favour  of  those  for  whom  we 
have  little  regard,  but  dread  the  frown  of  a 
friend  whom  we  most  affectionately  love.  But 
let  us  remember,  that  often 

‘ Behind  a frowning  providence, — He  hides  a smiling  face.’ 

May  the  richest  blessings  of  the  Almighty  be 
with  you!  May  his  everlasting  arms  surround 
and  support  you!  Soon,  I trust,  it  will  be  said 
of  you,  by  the  angelic  host,  She  hath  4 washed 
her  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb : therefore  she  is  before  the  throne  of 
God,  and  shall  serve  him  day  and  night  in  his 
temple: — therefore  shall  she  be  led  to  living 
fountains  of  water ; and  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  her  eyes.’  Your  mother  and  sister 
join  me  in  most  affectionate  regards ; and  assure 
yourself  that  you  are  daily  remembered  in  our 
private  addresses  to  the  throne  of  grace.  I 
remain  your  afflicted,  but  affectionate  father, 

44  William  Hey.” 

It  should  here  be  added,  that  no  parents 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


51 


could  be  more  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  early  parental  instruction  and  discipline,  or 
more  diligent  in  the  discharge  of  that  duty, 
than  were  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hey.  44  Being 
one  day  with  him  in  his  study,”  says  an  inti- 
mate friend,  44  when  Mrs.  Hey  had  left  the 
room,  as  she  shut  the  door,  Mr.  Hey  said  with 
great  feeling,  4 What  cause  have  I to  bless  God 
for  that  dear  woman ! She  is  now  feeble  and 
incapable  of  much  exertion,  but  it  is  to  her 
careful  instruction  of  my  dear  children  when 
they  were  young — and  I was  unable  from  pro- 
fessional engagements  to  attend  to  them  as  I 
could  have  wished — that  I ascribe,  through  the 
blessing  of  God,  their  turning  out  so  well.’ 
When  we  were  speaking  about  a friend  who 
had  much  anxiety  about  his  sons,  he  said, 4 that 
nothing  would  more  certainly  have  shortened 
his  days  than  the  grief  of  seeing  any  of  his 
children  living  in  a state  of  rebellion  against 
God.  I can  cheerfully  part  with  them  by  death, 
when  they  die  in  the  Lord;  but  I could  not 
support  the  sight  of  their  living  in  open  sin.’” 
Mr.  Hey  was  twice  elected  to  fill  the  office  of 
mayor  of  the  town  of  Leeds;  first  in  the  year 
1787,  and  again  in  1802.  The  duties  of  such 
an  office,  in  the  midst  of  a very  large  manufac- 
turing population,  called  forth  all  that  energy 
of  mind  in  the  performance  of  them,  which  his 
hitherto  more  private  pursuits  had  displayed  to 
all  who  knew  him.  He  had  to  encounter  ob- 
struction and  opposition,  obloquy  and  persecu- 
tion, secret  threats,  public  insi 


52 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


dangers.  But  to  all  tills  he  had  made  up  his 
mind,  and  the  integrity  of  his  character,  the 
uprightness  of  his  intentions,  the  disinterested- 
ness and  benevolenqe  of  his  conduct,  were  at 
length  acknowledged  and  appreciated,  and 
opened  the  way  to  a final  triumph,  not  only 
over  the  malice,  but  the  errors  of  his  adver- 
saries. Finding  it  requisite  to  obtain  a com- 
petent share  of  information  in  those  principles 
of  jurisprudence  by  which  he  was  to  be  directed, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  study  of  them  with 
such  assiduity,  that  he  is  said  to  have  become 
“ a good  lawyer,”  and  was  often  known  to  cor- 
rect the  errors  of  counsel,  when,  with  great 
confidence,  they  were  laying  down  the  law  to 
the  magistrates  at  the  sessions. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that  Mr. 
Hey  hailed  with  great  delight  the  establish- 
ment of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society, 
and  was  a zealous  supporter  of  the  Church 
Missionary  Society.  He  subscribed  likewise  to 
the  Moravian,  Baptist,  and  Wesleyan  Missions. 
But  it  deserves  to  be  noticed,  that,  upon 
the  first  establishment  of  Sunday  schools,  he 
not  only  promoted  the  introduction  of  those 
useful  means  of  instruction  upon  a very  exten- 
sive scale,  in  the  town  of  Leeds,  but  himself 
superintended  them,  and  even  until  the  age  of 
eighty  years,  continued  to  be  a regular  and 
diligent  teacher ; and  the  general  intelligence 
and  superior  Scripture  knowledge  of  his  class, 
were  a striking  evidence  of  the  judicious  and 
successful  mode  of  his  instructions.  On  one 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


53 


occasion,  when  a gentleman  was  detailing  to  a 
number  of  teachers  the  method  adopted  in 
another  school,  about  which  Mr.  Hey  felt  a 
lively  interest,  the  narrative  was  interrupted  by 
his  sudden  indisposition.  The  company  ex- 
pressing much  uneasiness  at  the  occurrence,  he 
remarked,  “ My  spirits  are  just  as  buoyant  as 
they  were  fifty  years  ago ; but  nature  reminds 
me  that  I am  an  old  man.  I exerted  my  voice 
too  much  yesterday,  while  leading  the  singing 
of  the  scholars^  and  I am  suffering  for  my 
imprudence.” 

With  the  exception  of  his  lameness,  and 
a serious  illness  of  some  weeks  in  the  year 
1808,  Mr.  Hey  generally  enjoyed  good  health 
till  within  two  years  of  his  death,  when  he 
sustained  a most  alarming  attack  of  a very 
painful  and  dangerous  disease  in  the  bowels, 
from  which  it  was  scarcely  expected  that  he 
would  recover.  The  following  extracts  from 
notes  made  by  one  of  his  intimate  friends, 
give  an  interesting  view  of  his  feelings  and 
prospects  during  this  affliction  : “ When  the 
violence  of  the  complaint  had  so  much  abated 
that  Mr.  Hey  was  able  to  speak  a little,  he 
said,  ‘I  was  perfectly  sensible  of  my  situation; 
my  mind  was  as  collected  as  it  is  now.  I was 
fully  persuaded,  that,  unless  it  should  please' 
God  to  check  the  violence  of  the  disorder,  I 
must  in  a very  short  time  stand  in  judgment 
before  his  throne.  I found  no  support  or  com- 
fort but  in  believing  views  of  the  atonement 
made  by  Jesus.  On  this  foundation  alone 


54 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


rested  all  my  hopes.  I had  much  consolation 
from  regarding  the  Saviour  as  interceding  for 
me.  Oh  ! there  is  no  support,  no  comfort,  but 
in  a reliance  on  the  atonement  and  interces- 
sion of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.’  He  adverted 
to  the  corruption  of  nature  ; observing  that, 
whatever  men  may  say  about  the  effects  of  the 
fall,  there  is  no  one  truth  in  the  Scripture  more 
evident  than  this,  that  a complete  and  entire 
change  must  take  place  in  us,  before  we  can 
truly  relish  the  holy  and  pure  joys  and  em- 
ployments of  the  heavenly  world.  This  the 
apostle  declares  when  he  says,  ‘ if  any  man  be 
in  Christ  he  is  a new  creature,’  or  a ‘ new 
creation.’  We  must  be  made  different  from 
what  we  were  before.  God  alone  can  effect 
this  great  change  in  the  soul.  He  then  spoke, 
in  most  fervent  and  elevated  strains,  of  the 
blessedness  of  the  beatific  vision.  ‘ Oh  !’  said 
the  venerable  saint,  ‘ who  can  conceive  the 
happiness  of  seeing  God,  of  beholding  him 
who  is  infinite  beauty,  infinite  perfection ; and 
not  only  beholding  him  with  a rectified  and 
refined  intellect,  but  in  beholding  to  be  trans- 
formed into  his  glorious  image!  Surely  it  is 
the  highest  bliss  of  heaven  to  see  God  as  he  is, 
Shd  to  be  made  like  him  ! What  poor  low 
conceptions  we  have  of  that  God  who  is  all 
beauty  and  love  ! Who  can  conceive  the 
blessedness  of  seeing  him  face  to  face ! ’ When 
I next  called  upon  him,  c Oh,  what  a blessed 
thing,’  said  he,  ‘ is  it  to  be  looking  unto  Jesus, 
and  resting  upon  the  promises  of  God  in  him  ! 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


55 


Where  can  a poor  sinner  look  but  unto  Jesus  ? 
In  him  he  finds  all  he  wants.  My  prayer  is 
that  of  the  poor  publican,  ‘ God  be  merciful 
to  me  a sinner.’  This  prayer  ever  was,  and 
ever  will  be,  graciously  answered.  I rest  all 
my  hopes  on  the  promises  of  Christ.  If  this 
foundation  sink,  I*  am  willing  to  sink  with  it ; 
but,’  added  he,  with  a holy  fervour,  ‘ I am  sure 
it  cannot  .sink : it  is  firmer  than  earth  or 
heaven ! What  a delightful  declaration  is  that 
in  the  third  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle  of 
St.  John!  u Behold  what  manner  of  love  the 
Father  hath  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we  should 
be  called  the  sons  of  God !”  But  observe  the 
connexion  between  the  believer’s  hope  of  glory 
and  its  purifying  effect.  “ Every  man  that 
hath  this  hope  in  Him  purifieth  himself,  even 
as  He  is  pure.”  ’ He  then  recited  this  favourite 
text:  1 These  things  write  I unto  you,  that 
ye  sin  not.  And  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an 
Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous:  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins':  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins 
of  the  whole  world.’  What  a free  offer  is  here 
made  to  the  whole  world  ! If  we  are  not  saved 
it  is  because  we  will  not  come  to  Christ,  that 
we  may  have  life.  The  fault  lies  in  ourselves. 
Then,  speaking  on  the  blessedness  of  seeing 
God  and  being  made  like  him,  1 This,  this,’  said 
he,  1 is  heaven!  I know  no  other.  Oh,  how 
I long  to  be  like  him ! ’ ” 

It  pleased  God  once  more,  however,  to 
restore  his  servant,  after  a confinement  of  more 


56 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


than  three  months,  and  although  he  never 
perfectly  recovered  from  the  injury  inflicted  on 
his  constitution  by  this  long  and  severe  in- 
disposition, his  strength  was  not  remarkably 
impaired  nor  his  vigour  abated.  Hence  he 
would  often  remark  that  he  was  obliged  to 
bring  in  the  aid  of  reason  to  tell  him  that  he 
was  an  old  man.  At  the  advanced  period  of 
eighty-two,  he  moved  about  with  much  alert- 
ness and  agility:  the  sight  of  his  single  eye 
was  remarkably  good,  and  his  hand-writing 
was  firm  and  distinct.  When  mentioning,  in 
conversation,  about  six  months  before  his  death, 
the  words  of  the  psalmist — “ The  days  of  our 
years  are  threescore  years  and  ten ; and  if  by 
reason  of  strength  they  be  fourscore  years,  yet 
is  their  strength  labour  and  sorrow,”  he 
added  with  a smile,  “ But  I have  not  found 
them  either  labour  or  sorrow.”  Much  of  this 
freshness  and  vigour  may  be  ascribed,  under 
the  blessing  of  God,  to  his  early  rising,  his 
strict  habits  of  temperance,  the  equanimity  of 
his  temper,  and  that  internal  peace  and  com- 
posure which  resulted  from  his  humble  but 
stedfast  faith,  and  his  habit  of  continual 
communion  with  God.  Mr.  Hey  was  enabled 
to  live  constantly  in  the  spirit  of  prayer.  u It 
is  a very  desirable  thing,”  he  says  in  a letter 
to  Miss  Hey,  dated  October  24,  1799,  “to  be 
enabled  to  hold  a kind  of  secret  communion 
with  God  in  our  minds,  while  engaged  in  the 
common  scenes  and  duties  of  life.  I can 
remember  some  seasons  when  I was  young, 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


57 


and  had  not  a multitude  of  cares  to  distract 
me,  that  I have  been  enabled  to  keep  my 
mind  much  occupied  in  the  contemplation  of 
Divine  things-  A multitude  of  important  con- 
cerns now  press  upon  me,  yet  I find  much 
refreshment  and  strength  from  secret  ejacula- 
tions. When  this  is  neglected,  my  mind 
grows  dry  and  uncomfortable.”  “ The  cheerful 
and  happy  state  of  Mr.  Key’s  mind  in  the 
latter  years  of  his  life,”  says  one  who  knew 
him  well,  “ may  be  easily  accounted  for.  He 
had  no  time  to  be  unhappy.  His  life  was 
usefully  employed,  and  he  was  conscious  that 
he  lived  for  valuable  and  useful  purposes. 
His  views  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  were 
remarkably  clear  and  distinct.  He  was  deeply 
sensible  that  his  own  righteousness  could  never 
justify  him  before  God;  but  he  had  likewise 
learned  that  there  is  forgiveness  with  him, 
and  that  mercy  is  freely  and  fully  bestowed  on 
every  repenting  sinner  who  has  fled  for  refuge 
to  the  hope  set  before  him  in  the  gospel.  He 
did  not  esteem  it  presumptuous  to  believe  that 
God  was  his  reconciled  Father  in  Christ  Jesus; 
that  all  things  under  the  direction  of  infinite 
wisdom  and  boundless  goodness  were  con- 
tributing to  the  final  salvation  and  everlasting 
happiness  of  himself  and  of  all  who  truly 
loved  and  feared  God.  This  assurance  of  hope 
he  endeavoured  to  maintain  firm  to  the  end. 
Perhaps  few  persons  lived  under  a more 
abiding  sense  of  the  Divine  favour  than 
Mr.  Hey.  He  loved  God,  he  delighted  in  his 


58 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


service,  he  walked  with  him,  and  here  was 
the  prime  source  of  all  his  happiness.  The 
spirit  of  adoption,  which  was  the  prevailing 
temper  of  his  mind,  shed  a bright  lustre  on 
the  surrounding  prospects  of  life,  and  opened 
a vista  through  which  the  eye  of  faith  already 
caught  some  beams  of  that  light  which  shall 
shortly  pour  an  eternal  day  of  joy  and  gladness 
on  the  people  of  God.” 

The  illness  by  which  this  venerable  servant 
of  God  was  at  length  called  to  his  eternal  rest, 
was  short,  and  not  very  painful,  but  still 
such  as  incapacitated  him  for  any  connected 
conversation  His  end  was  emphatically 
“ peace.”  The  short  expressions  which  he  made 
use  of  were  sufficient  to  show  that  the  “ rod 
and  staff”  of  the  good  Shepherd  did  not  fail 
him,  and  he  lay  occasionally  ejaculating, 
“ Glory,  praise,  glory,”  as  if,  wrapt  up  in  holy 
meditation,  he  obtained  by  faith  some  bright 
glimpses  of  the  heavenly  Canaan  to  which  he 
was  approaching.  Mr.  Hey  died  on  the 
evening  of  the  23rd  of  May,  1819.  “Even 
to  your  old  age  I am  he;  and  to  hoar  hairs 
will  I carry  you,”  Isa.  xlvi.  4.  “ Blessed 

are  they  that  do  his  commandments,  that 
they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and 
may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city,” 
Rev.  xxii.  14. 

The  more  prominent  features  of  Mr.  Hey’s 
character  as  a medical  man,  although  not 
enlarged  on,  may  be  readily  understood  by  the 
preceding  account.  To  considerable  intel- 


WILLIAM  HEY,  ESQ. 


59 


lectual  power  he  united  a thirst  for  knowledge, 
a good  acquaintance  with  the  medical 
literature  of  his  day,  and  much  patient  and 
experimental  research,  from  which  it  was 
always  his  aim  to  deduce  conclusions  of 
practical  usefulness.  The  spiritual  as  well  as 
temporal  health  of  his  patients  was  always  an 
object  of  his  most  anxious  solicitude,  and  to 
promote  it  he  seized  every  favourable  oppor- 
tunity. In  the  early  part  of  life,  his  manner 
was  thought  to  savour  rather  of  austerity  and 
reserve,  but  towards  the  close  of  it  this  is  said 
to  have  very  much  worn  away,  and  in  the 
society  of  intimate  friends  he  was  always  open, 
cheerful,  and  sometimes  even  loquacious.  The 
great  equanimity  of  mind  that  he  manifested 
was,  doubtless,  the  result  of  constant  and 
simple  dependence  on  that  gracious,  though 
unseen,  Hand  which  conducted  him  through 
all  the  difficulties  and  perplexities  of  the 
present  life  to  a city  of  everlasting  habitation. 
The  following  short  remarks  which  Mr.  Hey 
made  in  conversation,  on  the  Collect  for  the 
eighth  Sunday  after  Trinity,  will  illustrate 
his  views  on  this  subject,  and  may  form  an 
appropriate  conclusion  to  this  brief  memoir. 
Collect:  “O  God,  whose  never- failing  provi- 
dence ordereth  all  things  both  in  heaven  and 
earth,  we  humbly  beseech  thee  to  put  away 
from  us  all  hurtful  things,  and  to  give  us  those 
things  which  be  profitable  for  us,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.”  “ I cannot 
conceive,”  said  he,  u a more  elevated  state 


GO  EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 

of  devotion  than  that  of  a soul  prostrating 
itself  before  the  throne  of  the  Almighty,  and 
breathing  out  its  desires  in  this  beautiful 
prayer.  It  is  the  very  spirit  and  disposition 
which  becomes  a frail,  ignorant,  short-sighted 
creature.  We  here  acknowledge  the  over- 
ruling' and  never-failing  providence  of  God, 
and  present,  as  it  were,  a blank,  to  be  filled  up 
as  Infinite  Wisdom  sees  best  for  us.  We  beg 
of  God  to  4 put  away  from  us  all  hurtful  things,’ 
and  to  4 give  us  those  things  which  be  profitable 
for  us.’  We  do  not  ask  for  riches,  or  honour, 
or  ease,  or  health : these  may  be  hurtful  to  us. 
We  do  not  pray  to  be  preserved  from  sickness, 
trials,  or  adversities  ; these  may  be  profitable 
to  us  ; we  leave  the . disposal  of  all  events  to 
Him  who  is  toe  wise  to  err,  and  too  gracious 
to  be  unkind;  and  could  we  imbibe  more  of 
the  spirit  which  breathes  through  these  holy 
petitions,  this  would  be  the  habitual  language 
of  our  hearts.” 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 

Dr.  Thomas  Bateman  was  born  at  Whitby,  in 
Yorkshire,  on  the  29th  of  April,  1778,  at 
which  place  he  died  on  the  9th  of  April,  1821. 
He  was,  from  infancy,  of  a delicate  constitution, 
and  being  naturally  silent  and  reserved,  mani- 
fested but  little  indication  of  the 1 talent  and 
ability  which  afterwards  distinguished  him. 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


61 


When  not  at  school  it  was  a constant  practice 
with  him  to  sit  on  the  top  of  a gate  near  the 
house,  for  great  part  of  the  day,  lost  in  thought, 
without  seeking  either  employment  or  amuse- 
ment ; so  that  his  father,  who  was  engaged  in 
an  extensive  medical  practice  at  Whitby,  and 
had  little  time  to  spend  with  his  family,  used 
to  lament  continually  to  his  mother,  when  he 
saw  Thomas  upon  “ his  old  seat  at  the  gate,” 
that  “ that  boy  would  never  be  good  for  any 
thing” — a very  common  prediction,”  it  has 
been  remarked  by  Mr.  DTsraeli,  in  his  Essay 
on  Literary  Characters,  u of  the  friends  of  such 
men  in  their  childhood,  and  which  is  soon 
falsified  when  they  are  placed  in  situations 
favourable  to  the  development  of  their  par- 
ticular talent.”  So  it  was  with  young  Bateman. 
In  his  twelfth  year,  he  was  placed  in  the  school 
of  the  Bev.  M.  Mackereth,  at  Thornton,  a 
village  twenty  miles  from  Whitby.  Here, 
from  the  first,  he  distinguished  himself,  and 
took  the  lead  in  every  branch  of  learning, 
with  an  ardour  altogether  different  from  his 
former  habits.  He  pursued  his  studies  even 
in  his  hours  of  leisure : and  almost  his  only 
relaxations  were  music,  drawing,  and  botany. 
Astronomy  and  electricity  were  also  among 
his  favourite  pursuits;  and  without  having 
seen  either  a planetarium,  or  an  electrical 
machine,  and  with  great  disadvantage  as  to 
tools  and  materials,  he  made  both,  as  well  as 
an  iEolian  harp,  from  the  descriptions  in 
Chambers’  Dictionary,  cutting  out  all  the 


62 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


wheels  of  the  former  with  his  penknife.  His 
teacher  used  to  observe  that  his  most  remark- 
able faculty  was  a sound  and  penetrating 
judgment,  that  he  was  not  so  much  dis- 
tinguished by  quickness,  as  by  the  unceasing 
energy  and  vigour  with  which  every  power  of 
his  mind  was  kept  in  full  and  active  employ- 
ment, and  brought  to  bear  at  once  upon  every 
object  presented  to  it. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  lost  his  father. 
His  profession  had  been  already  determined 
by  his  own  choice ; and,  by  the  advice  of 
Dr.  Beckwith,  who  had  commenced  his  career 
as  a physician,  at  Whitby,  but  was  then  in 
practice  at  York,  he  was  taken  home  that  he 
might  acquire  a knowledge  of  pharmacy, 
whilst  he  completed  his  general  education. 
At  nineteen,  he  went  to  London,  well  furnished 
with  the  knowledge,  classical  and  scientific, 
proper  to  his  future  profession,  and  trained  to 
habits  of  industry,  observation,  and  research, 
which  he  was  subsequently  enabled  to  direct 
to  subjects  of  high  practical  value.  It  may 
be  properly  mentioned,  as  an  instance  of  filial 
affection  and  attention,  not  perhaps  very 
common,  that,  on  his  first  leaving  home,  he 
asked  his  mother  how  often  she  would  expect 
him  to  write  to  her.  She  replied,  “ Once  a 
fortnight;”  and  from  that  time,  through  all  the 
subsequent  twenty  years  of  his  absence,  and 
in  the  midst  of  his  most  active  engagements, 
he  never  in  one  single  instance  exceeded  the 
given  period,  even  by  a single  day;  each  letter 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


63 


containing  a minute  detail  of  everything 
which  he  thought  would  be  interesting  to  his 
family.  Being  intended  to  graduate  at  Edin- 
burgh, Mr.  Bateman’s  chief  objects,  in  London, 
were  anatomy  and  the  practice  of  physic.  He 
entered,  therefore,  to  the  lectures  at  Windmill- 
street,  and  as  physician’s  pupil  at  St.  George’s 
Hospital,  for  the  winter  of  1797-98.  Thus 
prepared,  he  went  to  Edinburgh  in  the  following 
winter,  where,  after  having  pursued  his  studies 
with  the  greatest  assiduity  and  attention,  he 
graduated  in  June,  1801. 

Dr.  Bateman  was  now  to  enter  upon  a new 
and  important  field.  He  settled  in  London 
for  practice,  being  admitted  as  a licentiate  of 
the  College  of  Physicians.  Here  he  diligently 
carried  forward  his  pursuit  of  improvement, 
under  Dr.  Willan,  whose  high  and  merited 
reputation  had  induced  many  young  physicians 
to  enter  as  his  pupils  at  the  Public  Dis- 
pensary. Dr.  Bateman’s  assiduity  at  that 
institution,  led  to  his  being  appointed  assistant 
physician,  under  a temporary  pressure  of 
business,  and,  subsequently,  to  his  becoming 
the  colleague  of  Dr.  Willan  and  Mr.  Pearson 
in  1804  ; and  he  was  elected  physician  to 
the  Fever  Hospital,  in  the  same  year.  His 
ardour  in  these  offices  was  unabated  by  any 
difficulties  so  long  as  his  health  enabled  him 
to  discharge  their  duties.  Those  of  the  latter 
very  important  charity  were  wholly  committed 
to  him,  and  he  sustained  them  for  many  years 
without  any  assistance.  He  soon  likewise 


64 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


became  a contributor  to  the  diffusion  of  medical 
knowledge  by  his  pen.  His  “ Dispensary 
Deports”  in  the  Edinburgh  Medical  and  Sur- 
gical Journal,  first  introduced  him  to  the 
notice  of  the  public  as  a writer,  to  the  esta- 
blishment of  which  periodical  he  gave  efficient 
support,  by  contributing  a considerable  number 
of  very  valuable  articles.  He  wrote  also  most 
of  the  medical  articles  in  the  Edinburgh  Cyclo- 
paedia, and  the  medical  portion  of  the  article  on 
“Imagination”  in  that  work,  as  well  as  most  of 
the  professional  biographies.  But  h£  principally 
distinguished  himself  as  an  author,  by  his 
“ Synopsis,”  and  his  “ Delineations  ” of 
cutaneous  diseases.  In  these  he  followed  up 
the  design  which  Dr.  Willan  had  commenced. 
The  plates  are  in  part  those  of  Dr.  Willan, 
retouched  and  improved  by  the  engraver,  and 
partly  original.  Several  characteristic  repre- 
sentations among  them  are  from  Dr.  Bateman’s 
own  pencil.  Altogether  they  furnish  a standard 
work  of  most  essential  importance  in  facili- 
tating the  acquisition  of  a discriminating,  or 
what  in  technical  language  is  called  a dia- 
gnostic, tact  in  these  diseases.  Dr.  Bateman 
nowr  succeeded  Dr.  Willan,  as  the  principal  au- 
thority on  all  questions  relating  to  affections  of 
the  skin.  The  “ Synopsis”  was  soon  trans- 
lated into  the  French,  German,  and  Italian 
languages,  and  was  well  received  throughout 
the  continent  of  Europe,  of  which  Dr.  Bateman 
had  the  gratification  of  receiving  evidence 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


65 


from  the  highest  quarter.  The  emperor  of 
Kussia  was  pleased  to  desire  that  a copy  might 
be  sent  to  him,  through  the  hands  of  the 
imperial  ambassador  in  London.  And  on  the 
command  being  carefully  fulfilled,  his  majesty 
farther  condescended  to  convey  to  Dr.  B.  by 
the  same  channel,  a ring  of  a hundred  guineas 
value,  with  an  intimation  of  his  pleasure,  that 
any  future  works  written  by  Dr.  Bateman 
should  be  transmitted  in  like  manner  to 
St.  Petersburgh. 

Dr.  Bateman,  as  may  well  be  imagined,  was 
a great  economist  of  time.  In  the  intervals  of 
professional  duty  his  pen  was  always  in  his 
hand,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  write  with 
great  fluency.  In  preparing  his  manuscript 
upon  any  particular  subject — as,  for  instance, 
more  especially  his  articles  for  the  Cyclopaedia — 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  noting  down  on  a scrap 
of  paper  the  heads  into  which  he  thought  of 
dividing  his  subject,  of  then  reading  all  the 
books  upon  it  which  he  had  occasion  to  con- 
sult, after  which  he  arranged  in  his  mind  all 
he  proposed  to  say,  so  that  when  he  began  to 
write  he  considered  his  labour  done.  He 
wrote,  indeed,  as  fast  as  his  pen  could  move, 
and  with  so  little  necessity  of  correction  or 
interlineation,  that  his  first  copy  always  went 
to  the  printer.  Neither  was  any  part  of  this 
process  hastily  or  inconsiderately  performed. 
He  said  that  to  prepare  for  the  single  article 
on  “ Imagination  ” above  referred  to,  he 
6* 


66 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


read  the  greater  part  of  one- and -twenty 
volumes. 

But  amidst  his  various  labours  Dr.  Bate- 
man’s health,  originally  delicate,  began  to  give 
way.  To  derangement  of  the  digestive  organs, 
and  successive  attacks  of  periodic  headache, 
was  superadded  a gradual  failure  of  the  sight 
of  his  right  eye,  which  was  considered  to  be 
of  the  nature  of  amaurosis,  and  the  vision  of 
the  left  eye  was  to  a certain  degree  likewise 
affected.  It  was  thought  requisite  to  have 
recourse  to  mercury,  which  unhappily  pro- 
duced a most  exhausting  and  distressing  train 
of  symptoms,  known  in  the  profession  by  the 
name  of  “ mercurial  erethism,”  of  which  he 
himself  published  an  interesting  sketch  in 
the  ninth  volume  of  the  “ Medico-Chirurgical 
Transactions.”  From  this  time  he  no  longer 
enjoyed  good  health,  and  derived  little  or  no 
benefit  from  some  journeys  he  was  induced 
to  take  into  the  north.  In  the  month  of  April, 
1817,  he  recommenced  his  attendance  at  the 
Fever  Hospital,  when  scarce  equal  to  the  duties 
he  had  to  perform.  But  an  epidemic  fever 
had  then  appeared  in  London,  and  his  zeal 
was  not  to  be  restrained.  From  that  time, 
till  the  beginning  of  the  following  February, 
he  spent  from  an  hour  and  a half  to  two  hours 
and  a half,  daily,  in  the  wards  of  that  hospital, 
having  under  his  care,  during  this  period, 
nearly  seven  hundred  patients.  He  was  then 
himself  attacked  by  fever,  and,  after  his 
recovery,  never  gained  any  tolerable  degree 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


67 


of  strength,  but  went  on  rather  declining  than 
improving,  until  in  June,  1819,  he  Was  taken 
ill  on  the  road  from  London  to  Middleton,  in 
Durham  ; being  again  attacked  with  alarming 
languors,  in  which  he  was  thought  to  be  dying, 
by  himself  and  by  all  around  him,  and  which 
cohtinually  returned  if  he  attempted  to  make 
the  least  exertion.  Finding  it  impossible  to 
proceed  to  Whitby,  as  he  had  intended,  he 
removed  to  a temporary  habitation  at  Bishop 
Burton.  He  now  determined  to  give  up  his 
appointment  to  the  Public  Dispensary  ; he  had 
already  resigned  the  office  of  physician  to  the 
Fever  Hospital,  after  having  discharged  it  faith- 
fully for  fourteen  years,  and  was,  in  con- 
sequence, appointed  consulting  'physician. 
During  the  ensuing  winter  he  gradually  im- 
proved in  strength  so  as  to  be  able  to  take 
gentle  exercise  on  a pony  or  in  a gig  almost 
daily ; but  on  the  return  of  warm  weather, 
early  in  April,  he  had  a severe  attack  of 
languor  after  a short  ride,  and  ultimately 
became  the  subject  of  a progressive  affection 
of  the  digestive  organs,  accompanied  with 
great  exhaustion  of  strength,  without  fever  or 
any  manifest  structural  disease,  of  the  fatal 
tendency  of  which  he  had  himself  the  strongest 
impression. 

And  now  we  arrive  at  the  last  eventful  year 
of  Dr.  Bateman’s  life : the  ever  memorable  era 
to  him,  of  the  commencement  and  development 
of  the  most  momentous  change  which  can  possi- 
bly affect  the  human  mind.  This  remarkable 


68 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


event,  and  its  attending  circumstances,  have 
been  so  faithfully  and  so  well  detailed  by  a 
near  relative,  that  we  cannot  do  better  than 
relate  them  in  the  writer’s  own  words.  It  may 
be  sufficient  only  to  premise,  that  although  Dr. 
Bateman’s  moral  character  had  been  unim- 
peachable, and  he  had  always  retained  a high 
sense  of  “ honour,”  and  a desire  to  avoid  every- 
thing that  the  world  esteems  discreditable,  he 
had  hitherto  not  merely  remained  an  utter 
stranger  to  the  power  of  vital  godliness,  but  had 
gradually  become  more  and  more  confirmed  in 
his  leaning  to  the  wretched  doctrine  of  material- 
ism. This  lamentable  tendency,  first  acquired 
during  the  course  of  his  studies  at  Edinburgh, 
had  been  unhappily  increased  by  the  society  of 
some  men  of  considerable  talent,  who  had 
espoused  all  its  unphilosophical  and  unchris- 
tian tenets  ; and,  although  never  able  fully  to 
embrace  those  opinions  himself,  he  was  suffi- 
ciently influenced  by  them  to  become  sceptical 
respecting  the  truth  of  Divine  revelation.  Of 
course,  he  was  a stranger  to  the  hopes,  as  well 
as  negligent  of  the  duties  of  Christianity. 

“ It  was  on  Sunday,  the  &th  of  April,”  says 
the  writer  just  referred  to,  “ that  he  first  spoke 
to  me.  on  the  subject  of  religion.  He  had 
passed  the  whole  of  the  day  in  a state  of  extra- 
ordinary suffering,  from  languor  and  a variety 
of  nervous  feelings,  which  he  always  said  it  was 
impossible  to  describe,  further  than  that  they 
were  inconceivably  painful  and  distressing ; and 
he  went  to  bed  at  night  with  a firm  persuasion 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


69 


that  he  should  never  again  quit  it ; and,  in  fact, 
he  did  confine  himself  to  it  for  the  following 
three  weeks,  from  the  mere  apprehension  of  the 
consequences  of  exertion.  Beligion  was  a sub- 
ject which,  for  many  reasons,  had  never  been 
discussed  between  us.  Though  the  tenor  of 
his  life  had  made  me  but  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  state  of  his  mind,  he  had  always 
avoided  any  declaration  of  his  opinions,  know- 
ing the  pain  it  would  give  me  to  hear  them. 
He  was  habitually  fond  of  argument,  and 
skilled  in  it ; and  I knew  that  I was  quite  in- 
competent to  argue  with  him.  I considered, 
too,  that  the  habit  of  disputing  in  favour  of  any 
opinion,  only  serves,  in  general,  to  rivet  it 
more  firmly  in  the  mind  ; men  commonly  find- 
ing their  own  arguments  more  convincing  than 
those  of  their  adversaries.  And,  above  all,  I 
knew  that  this  was  a case  in  which  mere  argu- 
ment must  always  be  insufficient, — for  it  is 
1 with  the  heart  that  man  believeth.  unto  right- 
eousness and  in  most,  if  not  all,  cases  of  scep- 
ticism, the  will  and  the  affections  need  to  be 
set  right  even  more  than  the  understanding  ; 
and  upon  these,  argument  can  have  no  influ- 
ence. On  the  evening  of  the  day  I have  men- 
tioned, Dr.  Bateman  had  been  expressing  to 
me  his  conviction  that  he  could  not  live  much 
longer,  and  complaining  of  the  dreadful  nerv- 
ous sensations  which  continually  harassed  him ; 
and  then  he  added,  1 But  all  these  sufferings 
are  a just  punishment  for  my  long  scepticism, 
and  neglect  of  God  and  religion.’  This  led  to 


70 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


a conversation,  in  the  course  of  which  he  ob- 
served, that  medical  men  w?ere  very  generally 
sceptical ; and  that  the  mischief  arose  from 
what  he  considered  a natural  tendency  of  some 
of  their  studies  to  lead  to  materialism.  I re- 
plied, that  the  mischief  appeared  to  me  to 
originate  rather  in  their  neglect  to  examine 
into  the  evidences  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  as 
an  actual  revelation  from  God;  because,  if  a 
firm  conviction  of  that  wrere  once  established, 
the  authority  of  the  Scriptures  must  be  para- 
mount; and  the  tendency  of  all  inferior  studies, 
in  opposition  to  their  declarations,  could  have 
no  weight.  He  said,  he  believed  I was  right, 
and  that  he  had,  in  fact,  been  intending  to  exa- 
mine fully  into  the  subject,  when  the  complaint 
in  his  eyes  came  on,  and  shut  him  out  from 
reading.  Our  conversation  ended  in  his  per- 
mitting me  to  read  to  him  the  first  of  Scott’s 
4 Essays  on  the  most  important  Subjects 
in  Religion,7  which  treats  of  4 The  Divine  In- 
spiration of  the  'Scriptures.7  He  listened  with 
intense  earnestness  ; and  when  it  was  con- 
cluded, exclaimed,  ‘This  is  demonstration! 
complete  demonstration  !7  He  then  asked  me 
to  read ' to  him  the  account  given  in  the  New 
Testament  of  the  resurrection  of  our  Saviour; 
which  I did  from  all  the  four  evangelists.  I read 
also  many  other  passages  of  Scripture,  with  some 
of  which  he  was  extremely  struck  ; especially 
with  that  declaration,  that  4 the  natural  man 
receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God : 
for  they  are  foolishness  unto  him ; neither  can 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


71 


lie  know  them,  because  they  are  spiritually 
discerned,’  1 Cor.  ii.  14. 

u For  two  or  three  days,  he  showed  increas- 
ing interest  in  the  subject  of  religion;  and  I 
read  to  him  continually  the  Scriptures,  and 
other  books  which  seemed  to  me  best  calcu- 
lated to  give  him  the  information  he  thirsted 
for.  When  I went  into  his  room  a few  morn- 
ings after,  he  said,  4 It  is  quite  impossible  to 
describe  to  you  the  change  which  has  taken 
place  in  my  mind : I feel  as  if  a new  world  were 
opened  to  me,  and  all  the  interests  and  pursuits 
of  this  have  faded  into  nothing  in  comparison 
with  it.  They  seem  so  mean,  and  paltry,  and 
insignificant,  that  my  blindness  in  living  so 
long  immersed  in  them,  and  devoted  to  them, 
is  quite  inconceivable  and  astonishing  to  my- 
self.’ He  often  expressed  in  the  strongest 
terms,  and  with  many  tears,  his  deep  repent- 
ance, and  his  abhorrence  of  himself  for  his 
former  sinful  life  and  rebellion  against  God  ; 
but  he  seemed  to  have,  from  the  first,  so  clear  a 
view  of  the  all-sufficiency  of  the  Saviour’s 
atonement,  and  of  the  Christian  scheme  of  sal- 
vation, as  freed  him  at  once  from  that  distrust 
of  forgiveness  which  is  so  apt  to  afflict  persons 
at  the  first  sight  of  their  sins,  and  of  the  purity 
and  holiness  of  Him  1 with  whom  they  have  to 
do.’  The  self-abasing  views  which  he  enter- 
tained of  himself,  necessarily  enhanced  his  sense 
of  the  pardoning  love  and  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus,  thus  graciously  extended  to  him: 
and  which  he  felt  so  strongly,  that  he  was  filled 


72 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN 


with  the  liveliest  emotions  of  gratitude  and  joy, 
and  in  this  happy  state  continued  for  several 
days. 

“ He  soon,  however,  experienced  an  afflicting 
reverse  of  feeling.  One  evening  I left  him  to 
visit  a near  relative,  at  that  time  confined  to 
her  room  in  a precarious  state  of  health  ; and 
his  mother,  who  had  been  in  attendance  upon 
her,  took  my  place  at  the  bed-side  of  her  son. 
Dr.  Bateman  told  her,  that  I had  been  reading 
to  him  various  detached  portions  of  Scripture, 
and  that  he  now  wished  to  hear  the  New  Test- 
ament read  regularly  through  from  the  begin- 
ing.  She  consequently  began  to  read,  and  had 
proceeded  as  far  as  the  tenth  chapter  of  St. 
Matthew,  when  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  that  he 
could  not  believe  in  the  miracles  of  the  Saviour, 
and  that  therefore  he  must  perish  for  ever.* 
This  suggestion  of  his  spiritual  enemy  threw 
him  into  a state  of  the  most  dreadful  anguish, 
and  I was  immediately  sent  for  to  his  bed-side. 
On  my  arrival,  he  had  become  a little  more 
composed,  but  was  still  in  great  agitation;  and 
was  praying  in  agony  to  be  saved,  and  not 
to  be  given  up  to  this  dreadful  state  of  unbe- 
lief. To  comfort  his  mind,  we  said  what  wre 
could  from  Scripture,  and  from  the  experience 
of  other  Christians : and  he  was  a little  relieved 
by  hearing  some  passages  from  an  essay  in  the 

• It  needs  scarcely  be  pointed  out,  how  much  more  properly 
this  might  be  called  temptation  to  unbelief,  than  unbelief  itself. 
While  the  difficulty  of  believing  was  felt,  the  awful  consequences 
of  not  believing  were  fully  admitted ; that  is,  -were  tLmly  be- 
lieved. 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D.  73 

volume  before  mentioned,  1 On  the  Warfare 
and  Experience  of  Believers;’  finding  that  his 
was  not,  as  he  had  supposed,  a case  of  new 
occurrence ; but  that  the  author  of  that  work 
was  already  acquainted  with  its  symptoms,  and 
augured  favourably  of  them,  as  often  accom- 
panying the  progress  of  religion  in  the  soul. 
Still  the  idea  that  his  death  was  fast  approach- 
ing, and  that  there  was  no  hope  of  his  mind 
being  convinced  before  it  arrived,  quite  over- 
whelmed him.  Feeling  ourselves  to  be  very 
inadequate  guides  and  comforters  in  these 
afflicting  circumstances,  we  gladly  adopted  the 
suggestion  of  a friend  that  we  should  request  a 
neighbouring  clergyman  of  piety  and  judgment 
to  visit  him.  Dr.  Bateman  himself  grasped 
eagerly  at  the  proposal,  and  I wrote  imme- 
diately to  the  clergyman  in  question  ; but  he 
was  from  home,  and  was  not  expected  to  return 
for  two  or  three  weeks.  A few  days  after  this 
unwelcome  intelligence,  Dr.  Bateman  told  me, 
he  had  no  doubt  this  disappointment  was  for 
his  good ; and  that  it  was  better  for  him  to  be 
left  to  himself,  as  he  did  not  think  anything 
could  have  convinced  him  so  fully  of  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  as  the  sensible  relief  which  he  expe- 
rienced from  it  during  those  conflicts  of  doubt 
and  unbelief  with  which  his  mind  continued  to 
be  harassed.  He  added,  that  he  now  spent 
whole  nights  in  prayer.  He  felt  perfectly 
assured  that  these  doubts  were  the  sug- 
gestions of  the  great  adversary  of  souls,  and 
remarked,  that  they  were  vividly  and  mani- 
7 


74 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


festly  darted,  as  it  were,  into  his  mind,  instead 
of  arising  from  his  own  reflections,  or  resulting 
from  any  train  of  reasoning ; and  the  absurdity 
of  them,  in  many  instances,  was  so  obvious, 
that  his  judgment  detected  it  at  once,  though 
he  still  had  not  power  to  drive  them  from  the 
hold  they  took  on  his  imagination,  or  to  banish 
them,  for  the  time,  from  his  thoughts. 

“ These  paroxysms  of  distress  and  conflict, 
which  sometimes  lasted  many  hours,  he  conti- 
nued subject,  to  for  about  a fortnight:  but  they 
gradually  became  less  long  and  violent,  and  he 
experienced  increasingly  great  relief  from 
prayer  during  their  continuance ; till  at  length 
they  subsided  entirely,  and  left  his  mind  satis- 
fied on  all  those  points  which  had  before  pre- 
sented so  many  obstacles  to  his  belief. 

u About  this  time  he  received  an  unexpected 
visit  from  a medical  friend,  whose  piety  and 
truly  Christian  character  distinguish  him  still 
more  than  his  eminent  abilities  and  professional 
skill.  This  gentleman,  with  great  difficulty, 
succeeded  in  persuading  him  that  he  was  by 
no  means  in  that  state  of  danger  and  debility 
which  he  had  apprehended,  and  that  he  had 
the  power  of  taking  exercise  if  he  could  but 
exert  sufficient  resolution  to  attempt  it.  Expe- 
riment convinced  him  that  this  opinion  was 
correct:  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  leave  his 
bed,  and,  in  a very  few  days,  was  able  to  be 
some  hours  daily  in  the  open  air,  and  to  take 
considerable  exercise  ; and  it  is  remarkable, 
that,  from  this  time,  he  had  no  return  of  languor 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


75 


after  fatigue,  except  in  one  instance.  Thus 
was  lie  delivered,  by  the  gracious  providence 
of  God,  from  those  overwhelming  apprehensions 
of  immediate  death  which  had  been  so  instru- 
mental in  bringing  him  to  Christ,  as  soon  as 
they  had  effected  that  blessed  purpose. 

“ He  now  rarely  spoke  of  the  state  of  his 
mind  and  feelings  ; for  such  was  the  extreme 
reserve  of  his  character,  that  it  could  only  be 
overcome  by  deep  and  powerful  emotions ; and 
when  no  longer  agitated  by  these,  he  returned 
to  his  natural  habits,  and  was  silent  on  the 
subject  that  most  deeply  interested  him.  Still 
it  was  abundantly  evident  that  it  did  interest 
him.  The  avidity  with  which  he  listened  to 
the  word  of  God — his  eagerness  to  attend 
public  worship,  (which  for  many  years  he  had 
entirely  neglected,)  and  the  heartfelt  and  de- 
vout interest  which  he  obviously  took  in  the 
service — his  enlarged  and  active  benevolence — 
the  Change  which  had  taken  place  in  his  tastes, 
inclinations,  and  pursuits — all  testified  that  he 
was  indeed  brought  out  of  darkness  into 
1 marvellous  light  old  things  had  passed 
away,  and  all  things  had  become  new. 

“ In  the  course  of  the  summer,  his  health  and 
strength  were  considerably  recruited  : but 
towards  the  close  of  it,  a little  over-exertion  in 
walking  brought  on  an  accession  of  fever,  and 
a great  aggravation  of  all  the  symptoms  of  his 
disorder ; but  still  he  continued  able  to  take  a 
little  exercise.  While  he  remained  in  the 
country,  he  had  much  leisure,  which  was  de- 


76 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


voted  entirely  to  religious  reading ; for  every 
other  subject  had  now  become  insipid  and 
uninteresting  to-  him.;  and  never  did  the 
pursuits  of  science  and  literature  afford  him 
such  vivid  enjoyment  as  he  now  received  from 
these  hallowed  studies.  In  November,  he  re- 
moved to  Whitby  for  the  winter : and  his 
health  continued  in  much  the  same  state  till  a 
short  time  before  Christmas,  when  a walk, 
rather  longer  than  usual,  again  produced  in-  • 
creased  fever  and  debility  ; and  from  that 
period  his  strength  and  appetite  visibly  de- 
clined, while  his  spirit  was  as  visibly  ripening 
for  heaven.  His  faith  and  patience  were 
strengthened  ; his  hope  was  increased ; his 
charity  enlarged  : yet  he  was  naturally  so 
extremely  reserved  in  the  expression  of  his 
feelings,  that  he  rarely  spoke  of  them  till 
within  the  last  month  of  his  life,  when  he  re- 
joiced 1 with  a joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory,’  wThich  bore  down  all  opposition*  for 
he  experienced  a happiness  to  which  all  the 
accumulated  enjoyments  of  his  whole  previous 
life  could  bear  no  proportion  or  comparison, 
even  that  1 peace  of  God  which  passeth  all 
understanding,’  and  which  must  be  felt,  or,  at 
least,  witnessed,  in  order  to  form  any  just  con- 
ception of  its  nature  and  effects.  What  a 
striking  example  did  our  dying  friend  now 
exhibit  to  us  ! From  his  early  youth  he  had 
devoted  himself  with  delight  and  industry  to 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  the  pursuits 
of  literature  and  science  ; and  he  had  1 had  his 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D.  77 

reward’  in  the  honour  and  reputation  which 
his  success  had  procured  for  him, — a reward 
which  he  keenly  enjoyed  and  very  highly 
prized.  Those  who  have  known  only  the 
pleasures  which  arise  from  worldly  gratifica- 
tions, surely  ought  to  recollect,  that,  being 
confessedly  ignorant  of  the  spiritual  enjoy- 
ments which  they  despise,  they  cannot  be 
competent  to  decide  upon  their  reality  or  their 
value : it  belongs  only  to  those  who  have 
experienced  both , to  appreciate  either.  And 
how  did  Dr.  Bateman  appreciate  them  ? In 
contrasting,  as  he  frequently  did,  his  present 
happiness  with  all  that  he  had  formerly  enjoyed 
and  called  happiness,  he  seemed  always  at  a 
loss  to  find  words  to  express  how  poor,  and 
mean,  and  despicable,  all  earthly  gratifications 
appeared  to  him,  when  compared  with  that 
* joy  and  peace  in  believing,’  which  now  filled 
his  soul  : 1 one  particle  of  which,’  he  some- 
times said,  1 ten  thousand  worlds  would  not 
tempt  him  to  part  with.’  And  it  should  be 
remembered,  that  this  was  not  the  evidence  of 
a man  disappointed  in  his  worldly  pursuits  : 
he  had  already,  as  before  observed,  1 had  his 
reward’  in  this  world — he  had  experienced  the 
utmost  success  in  the  path  which  he  had  chosen 
— he  had  been  keenly  susceptible  to  intellectual 
pleasures ; and  of  these,  as  well  as  of  all  inferior 
amusements,  he  had  enjoyed  more  than  a 
common  portion ; but  when  the  only  object 
that  can  satisfy  the  affections,  and  fill  the 
capacities  of  a rational  and  immortal  being,  was 
7* 


78 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


revealed  to  him — when  he  viewed  by  the  eye 
of  faith  that  life  and  immortality  which  are 
brought  to  light  by  the  gospel — earthly  fame, 
and  honour,  and  pleasure,  sank  into  the  dust ; 
and,  in  reflecting  upon  his  past  life,  the  only 
thing  that  gave  him  any  satisfaction  was  the 
hope  that  his  labours  might  have  been  bene- 
ficial to  his  fellow-creatureg,  for  whom  his 
charity  had  now  become  unbounded.  He  often 
said,  that  ‘ the  blessing  of  his  conversion  was 
never  out  of  his  mind  day  or  night  ; that  it 
was  a theme  of  perpetual  thanksgiving  ; ' and 
that  he  never  awoke  in  the  night  without  being 
overwhelmed  with  joy  and  gratitude  in  the 
recollection  of  it.’  He  always  spoke  of  his 
long  bodily  afflictions  with  the  most  devout 
thankfulness,  as  having  been  instrumental  in 
bringing  him  to  God ; and  considered  his 
almost  total  blindness  as  an  especial  mercy, 
because,  by  shutting  out  external  objects,  it 
had  enabled  him  to  devote  his  mind  more 
entirely  to  spiritual  things.  Often,  latterly,  he 
expressed  an  ardent  desire  to  1 depart  and  to 
be  with  Christ  but  always  added,  that  he 
was  cheerfully  willing  to  wait  the  Lord’s 
pleasure,  certain  that  if  he  were  continued  in 
this  world  it  was  only  for  his  own  good,  and  to 
make  him  more  meet  to  be  a partaker  1 of  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light.’ 

“ He  bore  his  bodily  afflictions  with  the  most 
exemplary  patience,  and  even  cheerfulness,  and 
•continually  expressed  his  thankfulness  that  they 
were  not  greater  ; sometimes  saying,  4 What  a 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D. 


79 


blessing  it  is  to  be  allowed  to  slip  gently  and 
gradually  out  of  life  as  I am  doing  f He 

would  not  allow  any  one  to  speak  of  his  suffer- 
ings, always  saying,  4 they  did  not  deserve  a 
stronger  name  than  inconveniences.’  He 
neither  complained  himself,  nor  would  permit 
others  to  complain  for  him.  Once,  when  the 
nurse  who  attended  him  said,  4 Oh  that  cough  ! 
how  troublesome  it  is  f he  replied,  4 Have  a 
little  patience,  nurse  : I shall  soon  be  in  a 
better  world  ; and  what  a glorious  change  that 
will  be  !’  Indeed,  the  joy  of  his  mind  seemed 
to  have  absorbed  all  sense  of  his  physical 
sufferings.  I once  remarked  to  him,  that  he 
appeared  to  have  experienced  no  intermission 
of  these  joyful  feelings  ; and  he  answered, 
4 For  some  months  past,  never , and  never  the 
smallest  rising  of  anything  like  impatience  or 
complaint.’  His  mind,  naturally  active  and 
ardent,  retained  all  its  powers  in  full  vigour  to 
the  last  moment  of  his  life  : and  was  never 
once  clouded  or  debilitated,  even  in  the  most 
depressing  nervous  languors.  Indeed,  after 
the  whole  current  of  his  tastes  and  affections 
had  been  turned  into  a new  channel,  its  ardour 
and  activity  rather  increased  than  diminished, 
from  the  deep  conviction  which  he  felt  of  the 
superiority  of  his  present  views  and  pursuits 
to  all  that  had  hitherto  engrossed  him.  During 
the  last  week  of  his^  life,  especially,  the  strength 
and  clearness  of  his  intellect  and  of  his 
spiritual  perceptions,  were  very  remarkable  ; 
and  on  its  being  one  day  observed  to  him,  that 


80 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


as  His  bodily  powers  decayed,  those  of  his  soul 
seemed  to  become  more  vigorous,  he  replied, 

1 They  do,  exactly  in  an  inverse  ratio  : I have 
been  very  sensible  of  it.’ 

“He  conversed  with  the  greatest  animation  all 
the  day,  and  almost  all  the  night,  preceding  his 
death,  principally  on  the  joys  of  heaven  and 
the  glorious  change  he  was  soon  to  experience ; 
often  exclaiming,  1 What  a happy  hour  will 
the  hour  of  death  be  !’  He  dwelt  much  on 
the  description  of  the  new  Jerusalem  in  the 
Revelation  of  St.  John,  and  listened  with  great 
delight  to  several  passages  from  Baxter’s 
4 Saints’  Rest,’  and  to  some  of  Watts’s  hymns 
on  the  same  subject.  Once  in  the  night  he 
said  to  his  mother,  1 Surely  you  are  not  in 
tears  ! Mine  is  a case  that  calls  for  rejoicing, 
and  not  for  sorrow.  Only  think  what  it  will 
be  to  drop  this  poor,  frail,  perishing  body,  and 
to  go  to  the  glories  that  are  set  before  me !’ 
Not  more  than  an  hour  before  his  death,  when 
he  had  been  expressing  his  faith  and  hopjs  in 
very  animated  terms,  I remarked  to  him,  how 
striking  the  uniformity  of  faith  and  of  feeling 
expressed  by  believers  at  every  distance  of 
time  and  place,  and  spoke  of  it  as  an  indis- 
putable evidence  that  these  graces  are  wrought 
by  1 one  and  the  self-same  Spirit,’  and  as  a 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  the  promises 
and  descriptions  of  which  are  thus  so  strikingly 
fulfilled  and  exemplified.  He  entered  into  the 
argument  with  his  accustomed  energy,  and 
assented  to  its  truth  with  delight.  It  seemed 


THOMAS  BATEMAN,  M.D.  81 

remarkable,  that  though  he  had,  during  his 
whole  illness,  been  very  sensible  of  his  increas- 
ing weakness,  and  had  watched  and  marked 
accurately  all  its  gradations,  yet  he  spoke,  in 
the  last  moments  of  his  life,  of  going  down 
stairs  as  usual,  (he  had  been  carried  up  and 
down  for  several  days,)  and  said,  4 it  could  not 
require  more  than  a very  few  weeks  now  to 
wear  him  out ;’  not  appearing  to  be  at  all  aware 
that  his  end  was  so  very  near,  till  about  half 
an  hour  before  his  death.  Finding  himself 
extremely  languid,  he  took  a little  milk,  and 
desired  that  air  might  be  admitted  into  the 
room  ; and  on  being  asked  if  he  felt  relieved  at 
all,  said,  ‘Very  little:  I can  hardly  distinguish, 
indeed,  whether  this  is  languor  or  drowsiness 
which  has  come  over  me  ; but  it  is  a very 
agreeable  feeling.’  Soon  after,  he  said  suddenly, 
4 1 surely  must  be  going  now,  my  strength 
sinks  so  fast and  on  my  making  some  ob- 
servation on  the  glorious  prospect  before  him, 
he  added,  4 Oh,  yes  ! I am  glad  to  go,  if  it  be 
the  Lord’s  will.’  He  shut  his  eyes  and  lay 
quite  composed,  and  by-and-by  said,  4 What 
glory  ! the  jftgels  are  waiting  for  me!’ — then* 
after  another  short  interval  of  quiet,  added, 
4 Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  soul!’  and  to  those 
who  were  about  him,  4 Farewell !’  These 
were  the  last  words  he  spoke  : he  gradually 
and  gently  sunk  away,  and,  in  about  ten 
minutes,  breathed  his  last,  calmly  and  without 
a struggle,  at  nine  in  the  morning  of  the  9th  of 
April,  the  very  day  on  which,  twelve  months 


82 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


before,  his  mind  had  first  been  awakened  to 
the  hopes  and  joys  of  the  ever-blessed  gospel  ! 

“ What  a contrast  did  his  actual  departure 
form  with  what  I had  had  reason  to  apprehend, 
when  I watched  over  his  couch  in  London, 
expecting  that  every  moment  would  be  his 
last ; and  when,  with  a hard  indifference  and 
insensibility,  he  talked  only  of  going  to  his 
1 last  sleep !’  And  how  can  I worthily  ac- 
knowledge the  goodness  of  Almighty  God,  who 
effected  such  a change  in  his  state ! 

“ It  appears  that  he  preceded  his  revered, 
though  unknown,  instructor,  Mr.  Scott,  exactly 
one  wreek.  He  never  ceased  to  remember,  with 
the  deepest  gratitude,  his  obligations  to  that 
excellent  man.  It  was  only  the  evening  before 
his  death  that  he  was  recommending  with  great 
fervency,  to  a young  friend,  whose  mother, 
under  affliction,  was  first  beginning  to  inquire 
after  religious  truth,  to  engage  her  to  read 
c Scott’s  Essays,’  acknowledging,  with  fervent 
gratitude,  the  benefit  he  had  himself  received 
from  that  work,  and  concluding  an  animated 
eulogium,  by  saying,  4 How  have  I prayed  for 
that  man  !’  What  a blessed  meeting  may  we 
not  suppose  they  have  had  in  the  world  of 
glory  ! 

44  The  medical  friend  before  alluded  to  has 
most  justly  remarked,  that  4 the  entire  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity  of  Dr.  Bateman’s  natural 
character  give  additional  value  to  all  that  fell 
from  him.  He  never  used  a language  that  was 
at  all  at  variance  with  his  real  feelings ; and 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D. 


83 


was  in  no  degree  given  to  vain  imaginations.’ 
This  testimony  is  very  true,  and  this  remark- 
able simplicity  and  sobriety  of  his  natural 
character  remained  unaltered  in  the  great  re- 
volution which  took  place  in  his  principles  and 
dispositions  : he  went  into  no  exaggerations  of 
feelings,  or  excesses  of  enthusiasm.  And  surely 
the  merciful  Providence . which  preserved  his 
sound  understanding,  in  all  its  integrity,  to  the 
last  moment  of  his  life,  must  silence  the  gain- 
sayer  and  u the  disputer  of  this  world,”  who 
might  strive  to  attribute  the  sacred  influence 
of  religion  on  his  mind  to  the  errors  of  an 
intellect  impaired  by  long  disease  and  suffering.” 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D. 

If  it  be  the  chief  end  of  medical  science  to 
insure  to  the  community  the  largest  amount  of 
health,  and  in  the  most  successful  manner 
possible  to  alleviate  suffering  and  avert  the 
stroke  of  death,  then  may  the  name  of  this 
illustrious  individual  be  considered  as  justly 
entitled  to  rank  highest  among  practitioners  of 
the  healing  art.  What  discovery  or  improve- 
ment ever  hitherto  arrived  at,  in  the  annals  of 
the  profession,  can  bear  a parallel  with  that 
which  ministers,  in  every  part  of  the  globe,  to 
the  prevention  of  disease  and  deformity,  and,  in 
a great  proportion  of  cases,  to  exemption  from 
actual  destruction  ? Into  whatever  corner  of 


84 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


the  world  the  blessings  of  civilisation  have  been 
conducted,  it  has  followed  in  their  rear,  and 
will  doubtless  be  hailed  by  all  future  genera- 
tions as  one  of  the  greatest  temporal  benefits 
ever  conferred  on  mankind. 

The  father  of  Jenner  was  vicar  of  Berkeley, 
in  Gloucestershire,  a possessor  of  considerable 
landed  property,  and  a member  of  a family  of 
great  antiquity  in  that  county  and  Worcester- 
shire. The  illustrious  subject  of  this  biogra- 
phical sketch  was  his  third  son,  and  was  born 
at  the  vicarage,  on  the  17th  of  May,  1749. 

Before  Edward  Jenner  was  nine  years  of  age 
he  manifested  a growing  taste  for  natural  his- 
tory. He  had  already  formed  a collection  of 
the  nests  of  the  dormouse  ; and  when  at  Dr. 
Washbourne’s  school,  at  Cirencester,  he  spent 
the  hours  devoted  by  other  pupils  to  play,  in 
searching  for  the  fossils  which  abound  in  that 
neighbourhood.  He  was  instructed  in  the  ele- 
ments of  surgery  and  pharmacy  by  Mr.  Ludlow, 
of  Sudbury,  near  Bristol,  a man  of  considerable 
eminence  in  his  profession.  After  the  comple- 
tion of  his  apprenticeship,  he  proceeded  to 
London  to  pursue  his  studies  under  the  care  of 
the  celebrated  John  Hunter,  in  whose  house  he 
resided  as  a pupil  for  two  years.  Jenner  was 
now  in  his  twenty-first  year,  and  John  Hunter 
in  his  forty-second.  This  difference  of  age  did 
not  prevent  the  formation  of  a real  friendship; 
a community  of  tastes  and  pursuits  united  them 
to  the  last.  The  pupil,  like  his  patron  and 
instructor,  became  an  enthusiast  in  the  pursuit 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D. 


85 


of  natural  history  in  its  most  extensive  sense, 
and  did  not  neglect  to  avail  himself  of  the  advan- 
tages he  enjoyed.  In  the  dissection  of  tender 
and  delicate  organs,  he  was  unrivalled,  and  his 
minute  injections  were  remarkable  for  the 
accuracy  and  elegance  with  which  they  were 
finished  off.  He  bequeathed  to  Dr.  Baron,  of 
Gloucester,  his  able  friend  and  biographer,  a 
preparation  which  combines  all  these  qualities. 
It  represents  the  progress  of  the  ovum  in  the 
domestic  fowl,  from  its  first  development  to  its 
full  and  complete  growth. 

During  the  period  of  his  residence  with 
Hunter,  captain  Cook  returned  from  his  first 
voyage  of  discovery.  The  specimens  of  natural 
history  which  had  been  collected  by  sir  Joseph 
Banks  were  principally  arranged  by  Jenner, 
who  was  recommended  by  Hunter  for  that  ser- 
vice. And  so  great  was  the  science  and  dex- 
terity evinced  by  him  in  the  execution  of  this 
task,  that  he  was  offered  the  appointment  of 
naturalist  to  the  next  expedition,  wdiich  sailed 
in  1772.  But  neither  this  flattering  offer  nor 
any  more  enticing  prospect,  could  divert  him 
from  his  fixed  purpose  of  establishing  himself 
as  a medical  man  in  his  beloved  native  county. 
He  returned  to  Berkeley,  and,  taking  up  his 
residence  with  his  eldest  brother  Stephen,  wdio 
had  been  the  guide  of  his  orphan  years,  rapidly 
acquired  a degree  of  reputation  rarely  attained 
at  so  early  an  age.  Still  he  abstracted  from 
the  fatigues  of  a country  practice,  a sufficient 
portion  of  time  to  accumulate,  within  a short 
8 


86 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


period,  a series  of  specimens,  illustrative  of  com- 
parative anatomy  and  natural  history,  enough 
to  form  no  inconsiderable  museum.  His  sur- 
gical attainments,  his  amiable  and  polished 
manners,  and  his  very  general  information, 
secured  a welcome  reception  from  the  most 
distinguished  families  of  the  district.  His 
tenderness,  kindness,  and  meekness  were  re- 
markable ; an  uncommon  delicacy  of  feeling 
occasionally  threw  a pensive  shade  over  his 
mind,  but  his  lively  disposition  equally  entered 
into  the  deepest  sympathy  with  the  saddest 
moments  of  his  friends,  or  gaily  participated 
in  their  happier  hours.  His  humour  is  de- 
scribed by  l)r.  Baron  as  having  been  most 
enlivening  and  descriptive;  and  such  was  the 
charm  of  his  conversation,  that  many  were 
delighted  to  join  him  in  his  morning  rides,  and 
frequently  even  after  midnight,  to  accompany 
him  many  miles  on  his  road  homewards  from 
his  professional  avocations.  His  appearance 
and  manners  at  this  period  of  his  life  are  w'ell 
described  by  one  of  his  early  friends  in  the 
following  graphic  sketch.  “ His  height  was 
under  the  middle  size ; his  person  was  robust, 
but  active  and  well  formed.  In  his  dress,  he 
was  peculiarly  neat ; and  everything  about  him 
showed  the  man  intent  and  serious,  and  well 
prepared  to  meet  the  duties  of  his  calling. 
When  I first  saw  "him,  it  was  on  Frampton 
Green.  I was  somewhat  his  junior  in  years, 
and  had  heard  so  much  of  Mr.  Jenner,  of 
Berkeley,  that  I had  no  small  curiosity  to  see 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  87 

him.  He  was  dressed  in  a blue  coat  and  yellow 
buttons,  buckskins,  well-polished  jockey  boots, 
with  handsome  silver  spurs,  and  he  carried  a 
smart  whip  with  a silver  handle.  His  hair, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  times,  was  done  up  in  a 
club,  and  he  wore  a broad-brimmed  hat.  We 
were  introduced  on  that  occasion,  and  I was 
delighted  and  astonished.  I was  prepared  to 
find  an  accomplished  man,  and  all  the  country 
spoke  of  him  as  a skilful  surgeon  and  a great 
naturalist  ; but  I did  not  expect  to  find  him  so 
much  at  home  on  other  matters.” 

In  March,  1788,  Jenner  added  greatly  to  his 
happiness,  by  marrying  Miss  Catherine ' Kings- 
cote,  a lady  of  vigorous  understanding,  accom- 
plished mind,  and  religious  principle,  in  whose 
counsel  and  sympathy  he  found  support  in 
many  of  the  future  trials  of  his  life.  In  the 
year  1792,  oppressed  by  the  fatigues  of  a gene- 
ral country  practice,  he  resolved  to  confine 
himself  to  medicine,  and  obtained  a degree  of 
m.d.  from  the  University  of  St.  Andrews. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  give  some  outline  of 
the  great  discovery  which  was  so  soon  to  bring 
him  into  public  life,  and  has  since  immortalized 
his  name. 

It  was  at  a very  early  period  that  he  obtained 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  engrossing  object  of  the 
attention  of  his  whole  subsequent  life.  When 
pursuing  his  professional  education,  during  the 
period  of  his  apprenticeship  at  Sudbury,  a 
young  country  woman  applied  for  advice  ; the 
subject  of  small-pox  was  casually  mentioned 


88 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


in  her  presence  ; she  immediately  remarked, 
“ I cannot  take  that  disease,  for  I have  had 
cow-pox.”  This,  it  appears,  was  a popular 
notion  in  that  district.  A pustular  eruption 
derived  from  infection,  and  chiefly  showing 
itself  on  the  hands  of  milkers,  who  had  milked 
cows  similarly  disordered,  had  already  attracted 
notice,  and  been  found  to  secure  some  persons 
from  small-pox.  Jenner’s  attention  was  now 
arrested.  Young  as  he  was,  and  insufficiently 
acquainted  with  any  of  the  laws  of  physiology 
or  pathology,  he  dwelt  with  the  deepest  interest 
upon  this  extraordinary  fact,  and  speedily 
began  to  anticipate  the  vast  consequences  that 
might  be  involved  in  so  remarkable  a phenome- 
non. He  was  the  more  stimulated,  by  having 
frequently  witnessed  the  ravages  of  small-pox  ; 
he  also  vividly  remembered  the  discipline  to 
which  he  had  been  himself  subjected,  prepara- 
tory to  his  inoculation  for  that  disease,  which 
was  bleeding,  physicking,  and  starving,  till 
the  body  was  wasted  to  a skeleton.  When 
residing  with  Mr.  Hunter,  he  ventured  to  men- 
tion the  circumstance  to  him,  and  the  train  of 
thought  to  which  it  had  given  rise  in  his  mind. 
Mr.  H.  did  not  damp  his  ardour,  but,  as  was 
usual  with  him  on  all  occasions,  when  the 
matter  in  hand  admitted  of  being  brought  to 
the  test  of  experiment,  advised  that  trial  should 
be  made,  and  that  accuracy  and  faithfulness 
should  guide  the  investigation.  In  cases  cf 
this  kind,  he  would  say,  “ Don’t  think,  but  try : 
be  patient ; be  accura  te and  he  was  a ecus- 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  89 

tomed  to  make  known  Jenner’s  opinion  among 
his  friends,  and  to  mention  it  in  his  lectures. 
But  many  untoward  circumstances  arose  to 
damp  the  ardent  anticipations  which  the  future 
benefactor  of  his  race  had  begun  so  fondly  to 
indulge.  It  was  not  till  the  year  1780,  ten 
years  after  he  first  went  to  reside  with  Mr. 
Hunter,  that  Jenner  was  able,  in  any  tolerable 
degree,  to  unravel  the  perplexing  obscurity  in 
which  the  subject  was  enveloped,  and  which 
had  led  those  who  knew  the  tradition  of  the 
country  to  think  that  it  defied  all  satisfactory 
elucidation.  When  riding  with  his  friend 
Edward  Gardner,  in  that  year,  on  the  road 
between  Gloucester  and  Bristol,  he  commu- 
nicated to  him,  in  the  confidence  of  friendship, 
the  plan  he  intended  to  pursue,  and  the  success 
which  he  thought  might  possibly  hereafter 
dawn  upon  him.  He  went  over  the  natural 
history  of  cow-pox  ; stated  his  opinion  as  to 
the  origin  of  this  affection  from  the  heels  of 
the  horse ; specified  the  different  sorts  of  disease 
that  attacked  the  milkers  when  they  handled 
affected  cows  ; dwelt  on  that  variety  which  he 
conceived  to  afford  protection  against  small-pox ; 
and  then  with  deep  and  anxious  emotion 
mentioned  his  confident  hope  of  being  able  to 
propagate  that  variety  from  one  human  being  to 
another,  till  he  had  disseminated  the  practice 
all  over  the  globe,  to  the  total  extermination 
of  small-pox  : adding,  61  Gardner,  I have  en- 
trusted a most  important  matter  to  you,  which 
I firmly  believe  will  prove  a most  essential 
8* 


90 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


benefit  to  tlie  human  race.  I know  you,  and 
should  . not  wish  what  I have  stated  to  be 
brought  into  conversation,  for,  should  anything* 
untoward  turn  up  in  my  experiments,  I should 
be  made,  particularly  by  my  medical  brethren, 
the  subject  of  ridicule,  for  I am  the  mark  they 
all  aim  at.”  But,  by  whatever  passing  emotion 
this  caution  was  dictated,  Jenner  certainly 
himself  soon  made  no  secret  of  his  discovery  or 
his  views.  At  the  meetings  of  the  Alveston 
Medical  Club,  of  which  he  was  a member,  he 
often  introduced  his  favourite  theme;  so  fre- 
quently, indeed,  that  at  length  the  topic  was  de- 
nounced as  a nuisance,  and  his  hearers  to  whom 
he  failed  to  communicate  his  own  enthusiasm, 
sportively  threatened  to  expel  the  orator  if  he 
continued  to  harass  them  with  this  importunate 
discourse. 

Sixteen  more  years  elapsed  after  the  con- 
versation above  alluded  to,  before  the 
efficacy  of  vaccination  was  put  to  the  test  of 
actual  experiment  on  the  human  subject. 
They  were  years  of  anxious  suspense  to 
Jenner;  of  patient  and  searching  investigation. 
He  discovered,  from  his  own  observations,  as 
well  as  from  those  of  others,  that  what  was 
commonly  called  cow-pox  was  not  a certain 
preventive  of  small-pox.  This  likewise 
moderated,  but  did  not  extinguish  his  ardour. 
He  found  that  cows  were  subject  to  a variety 
of  spontaneous  eruptions  on  their  teats,  and 
that  all  were  capable  of  communicating  sores 
to  the  hands  of  the  milkers,  and  that  whatever 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  91 

sore  was  so  produced  was  called  cow-pox. 
This  again  was  satisfactory ; he  was  now  able 
to  discriminate  between  what  he  termed  the 
true  and  the  spurious  cow-pox : the  former 
possessing  a specific  power  over  the  consti- 
tution— the  other  not.  Then  a more  for- 
midable difficulty  arose.  He  found  that  there 
were  well  - authenticated  instances  to  prove 
that  when  the  true  cow-pox  broke  out  among 
the  cattle  and  was  communicated  to  the 
milkers,  even  they  had  subsequently  small-pox. 
Most  men  would  have  abandoned  the  subject 
in  despair.  But  Jenner  did  not.  By  still 
prosecuting  the  inquiry  he  ascertained-  that  it 
was  only  in  a certain  state  of  the  pustule 
that  virus  was  afforded  capable  of  imparting 
to  the  constitution  its  protective  power — that 
matter  taken  after  this  period  might  excite  a 
local  disease,  but  not  of  such  a sort  as  to  render 
the  individual  proof  against  the  effect  of 
variolous  contagion.  The  causes  of  failure,  in 
the  casual  dissemination  of  the  disease,  were 
now  ascertained,  and  his  chief  care  was  to 
avoid  them  in  attempting  to  propagate  it  by 
artificial  means.  He  has  left  us  an  interesting 
picture  of  his  feelings  during  this  eventful 
period.  “ While  the  vaccine  discovery  was 
progressive,  the  joy  I felt  at  the  prospect  before 
me,  of  being  the  instrument  destined  to  take 
away  from  the  world  one  of  its  greatest 
calamities,  blended  with  the  fond  hope  of  en- 
joying independence,  and  domestic  peace  and 
happiness,  were  often  so  excessive,  that  in 


92 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


pursuing  my  favourite  subject  among  the 
meadows,  I have  sometimes  found  myself  in  a 
kind  of  reverie.  It  is  pleasant  to  me  to 
recollect  that  those  reflections  always  ended 
in  devout  acknowledgments  to  that  Being  from 
■whom  this  and  all  other  blessings  flow.” 

At  length,  on  the  14th  of  May,  1796,  an 
opportunity  occurred  of  making  a decisive 
trial. — (On  the  annual  occurrence  of  this  day 
a festival  is  held  at  Berlin  to  commemorate  the 
event.)— Matter  was  taken  from  the  hand  of 
Sarah  Nelmes,  who  had  been  infected  by  her 
master’s  cows,  and  inserted  by  two  superficial 
incisions  into  the  arms  of  James  Phipps,  a 
healthy  boy  of  about  eight  years  of  age.  He 
went  through  the  disease  apparently  in  a very 
satisfactory  manner,  but  the  most  anxious  part 
of  the  trial  still  remained  to  be  performed. 
Was  he  secure  against  the  contagion  of  small 
pox  ? This  point  was  fully  put  to  issue. 
Variolous  matter  immediately  taken  from  a 
pustule  was  carefully  inserted  by  several  in- 
cisions, and  the  result  is  related  by  Jenner  to 
his  friend  Gardner  in  the  following  language: 
“ But  now  listen  to  the  most  delightful  part  of 
my  story.  The  boy  has  since  been  inoculated 
for  the  small-pox,  which,  as  1 ventured  to 
predict,  produced  no  effect.  I shall  now  pursue 
my  studies  with  redoubled  ardour.” 

After  zealously  multiplying  his  experiments, 
Jenner  published  his  first  memoir  in  June, 
1798.  He  had  originally  intended,  it  appears, 
to  have  announced  them  to  the  world,  in  the 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  93 

“ Transactions  of  the  Koyal  Society.”  In 
Moore’s  “ History  of  Vaccination,”  we  find 
the  true  cause  of  their  not  appearing  in  that 
form.  He  had  been  seriously  admonished, 
not  to  present  his  paper,  lest  it  should  injure 
the  character  he  had  acquired  amongst  scien- 
tific men  by  a paper  he  had  already  published 
in  those  “Transactions”  on  the  “Cuckoo”! 
Before  the  publication  of  this  work,  Jenner 
went  up  to  London  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
hibiting the  cow-pox,  and  of  demonstrating 
to  his  professional  friends,  the  accuracy  of  his 
delineations  and  the  truth  of  his  assertions. 
All  were  received  with  the  greatest  distrust. 
During  a residence  of  three  months,  he  could 
not  obtain  permission  to  exhibit  the  vaccine 
disease  upon  one  individual.  Mr.  Cline  was 
almost  the  only  professional  man  who  was  able 
to  see  at  once  what  invaluable  blessings  were 
likely  to  result  from  the  diffusion  of  the 
practice,  and,  with  just  regard  for  the  welfare 
of  the  discoverer,  wished  his  personal  advan- 
tage to  keep  pace  with  the  benefits  he  had  it 
in  his  power  to  impart.  He  therefore  advised 
him  to  quit  the  country,  and  to  settle  in 
Grosvenor-square,  assuring  him  he  might  rely 
on  an  income  of  ten  thousand  a year  as  the 
fruits  of  his  practice.  Here  was  the  tide  in 
Jenner1  s life  to  which  he  might  probably  have 
committed  himself  with  the  greatest  temporal 
advantage.  But  even  now  nothing  could 
induce  him  to  leave  Gloucestershire.  “ Shall 
I,”  he  writes  in  reply,  “ who,  even  in  the 


94 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


morning  of  my  days,  sought  the  lowly  and 
sequestered  paths  of  life,  the  valley  and  not 
the  mountain, — shall  I,  now  my  evening  is  fast 
approaching,  hold  myself  up  as  an  object  for 
fortune  and  for  fame  ? Admitting  it  as  a 
certainty  that  I obtain  both,  what  stock  shall 
I add  to  my  little  fund  of  happiness  ? And  as 
for  fame,  what  is  it  ? — A^gilded  bait  for  ever 
pierced  with  the  arrows  of  malignancy.” 

But  in  spite  of  incredulity,  apathy,  and 
ridicule,  the  fruits  of  Jenner’s  study  and 
patient  research  were  not  very  long  in  mani- 
festing themselves.  We  find  an  honourable 
tribute  was  paid  to  him,  even  so  early  as  the 
summer  of  1799,  when  no  less  than  thirty- 
three  of  the  leading  physicians,  and  forty 
eminent  surgeons  of  London,  signed  an  ex- 
pression of  their  confidence  in  the  efficacy  of 
vaccination.  And  the  royal  family  began  to 
exert  themselves  to  encourage  the  great  dis- 
covery. The  duke  of  Clarence  was  very  active 
in  the  cause  in  the  early  part  of  1800;  and  in 
March  of  that  year,  its  author  was  introduced 
successively  to  the  duke  of  York,  the  king, 
the  prince  of  Wales,  and  the  queen.  A 
reaction  now  ensued,  and  vaccination  became 
rather  suddenly  a favourite  practice  with  all 
ranks,  and,  in  consequence,  not  always  judi- 
ciously practised  or  carefully  examined. 

We  may  here  well  pause  for  a moment,  to 
call  to  mind  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  boon 
that  was  thus  offered  to  the  world.  We  are 
now  apt  to  forget  that  not  half  a century  has 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D. 


95 


elapsed  since  small- pox  constituted  the  most 
dreadful  scourge  of  the  human  race ; more 
extensive  and  more  insidious  than  the  plague. 
A family  blighted  in  its  fairest  prospects  was 
an  every-day  occurrence.  Whole  towns  were 
occasionally  half-depopulated  by  its  ravages. 
In  the  Russian  empire,  it  is  said  to  have  swept 
away  two  millions  in  a single  year.  Dr.  Letson 
calculated  that  two  hundred  and  ten  thousand 
fell  victims  to  it  annually  in  Europe.  Of 
persons  of  every  age  taken  ill,  one  in  five  or 
six  died,  while,  of  those  who  recovered,  traces 
often  remained  in  the  habit  only  inferior  in 
severity  to  the  evil  itself : it  appears  from  the 
records  of  the  London  Asylum  for  the  Indigent 
Blind,  that  three-fourths  of  the  objects  there 
relieved,  had  lost  their  sight  through  small- 
pox ; many  were  permanently  disfigured ; in 
some,  other  diseases — such  as  scrofula,  chronic 
ophthalmia,  pulmonary  consumption,  etc. — 
were  called  forth.  And  the  practice  of  in- 
oculation, the  greatest  improvement  ever  in- 
troduced in  its  treatment,  however  beneficial 
to  the  individual,  was  generally  detrimental, 
by  keeping  up  a constant  source  of  infection 
which  more  than  overbalanced  the  advantage 
of  individual  recovery.  It  appears  by  a 
document  compiled  from  the  bills  of  mortality, 
that  in  the  period  of  forty-two  years  preceding 
the  introduction  of  inoculation  (from  1680  to 
1722)  the  number  of  deaths  from  small-pox 
was,  to  the  population,  as  seventy-two  in 
one  thousand,  or  about  one  in  fourteen  ; but 


96 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


that  in  forty-two  years  subsequent  to  that 
event  (from  1730  to  1772)  they  were  as  eighty- 
nine  to  one  thousand,  or  a little  more  than  one 
in  eleven.  Dr.  Heberden  also  states  the  num- 
ber who  died  of  small-pox  in  the  first  thirty 
years  of  the  last  century  to  have  been  seventy 
in  one  thousand,  whereas,  in  the  last  thirty 
years  of  the  century,  it  was  as  many  as  ninety- 
five  in  one  thousand. 

The  discovery  of  the  properties  of  the 
vaccine  lymph  has  put  an  end  to  all  this 
suffering  and  mortality.  The  affection  pro- 
duced by  it  is  exceedingly  mild  in  its  nature ; 
it  affords,  when  it  has  regularly  passed  through 
all  its  stages,  as  complete  immunity  from  the 
small-pox  as  the  disease  itself  does  ; and  no 
dangerous  or  destructive  influence  is  com- 
municated by  its  effluvia. 

The  late  professor  Gregory  had  the  merit  of 
introducing  vaccination  into  Scotland,  in  which 
he  was  aided  by  sir  Matthew  Tierney. 
Dr.  Waterhouse  succeeded,  about  the  year 
1800,  in  establishing  the  practice  in  America. 
Dr.  Sacco,  of  Milan,  distinguished  himself  by 
active  co-operation  on  the  continent  of  Europe ; 
and  Dr.  De  Cano,  at  that  period  settled  at 
Vienna,  deserves  particular  mention  for  his 
successful  exertions  in  communicating  this 
antidote  to  Asia.  Most  of  the  governments  of 
Europe  have  since  enjoined  the  practice  by 
various  enactments,  with  more  or  less  of  com- 
pulsion, the  results  of  which,  whatever  may 
be  thought  of  such  coercion  of  the  liberty  of 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  97 

the  subject,  have  been  more  favourable  than 
even  in  our  own  country.* 

From  the  time  of  the  publication  of  his 
11  Inquiry,”  Dr.  Jenner  consulted  everything 
but  private  interest  in  all  he  did.  He  not 
only  relinquished  all  exclusive  benefit  by  dis- 
closing, in  the  most  unreserved  manner,  the 
grand  result  of  his  labours,  but  incurred  much 
expense,  as  well  as  spent  a great  deal  of  time, 
in  enabling  others  to  profit  by  his  discovery. 
Fie  was  all  this  time  by  no  means  in  in- 
dependent circumstances.  He  had  a family 
and  many  relations  who  looked  to  him  for 
support,  and  his  ordinary  practice'  as  a 
physician  had  been  greatly  interrupted. 
Alter  much  deliberation  among  his  friends,  it 
was  determined  that  his  claims  should  be 
brought  before  the  House  of  Commons  by 
petition.  A committee  was  appointed,  who 
reported  that  he  was  entitled  to  a reward  of 
£20,000.  It  detracts  from  the  gratitude  and 
honour  of  our  nation,  to  record  that  Jenner 
did  not,  on  this  occasion,  meet  with  the  dis- 

* In  Sweden  the  number  of  deaths  from  small-pox  ill  the 
following  years  was  as  follows  : 


In  1779 

15,000 

1784 

12,000 

1800 

12,000 

1801 

6,000 

1822 

11 

1823 

37 

111  Copenhagen,  between 

1752—1762 

the  deaths  were 

2644 

1762—1772 

2116 

1772—1782 

2233 

1782—1792 

2785 

1802—1818 

. 

153 

9 


98 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


tinction  he  merited.  By  a majority  of  three 
only,  the  smaller  sum  of  £10,000  was  voted  to 
him  by  the  house.  But  in  1807,  parliament 
displayed  more  justice,  and  awarded  to  him  an 
additional  grant  of  £20,000 — a sum  certainly 
not  too  munificent,  when  the  magnitude  of  the 
achievement  is  .considered  in  connexion  wbh 
the  fact  that  Jenner  had  spent  several  thou- 
sands in  bringing  it  to  perfection.  In  1803, 
the  “Royal  Jennerian  Society”  was  formed, 
“ for  the  extermination  of  small-pox.”  Thirteen 
stations  were  appointed  in  different  parts  of 
the  metropolis,  and  in  eighteen  months  the 
society  was  able  to  announce  that  twelve 
thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  in- 
oculations had  taken  place,  and  nineteen 
thousand  three  hundred  and  fifty-two  charges 
of  vaccine  virus  had  been  supplied  from  the 
central  house  to  most  parts  of  the  British 
empire,  and  to  foreign  countries.  A striking 
diminution  in  the  number  of  deaths  was  soon 
perceptible  within  the  bills  of  mortality.  In 
1803,  they  amounted  to  eleven  hundred  and 
seventy-three;  in  1804,  to  six  hundred  and 
twenty-two  only;  whereas  in  the  year  1800, 
they  had  been  two  thousand  four  hundred  and 
nine,  and  the  average  annual  amount  of  the 
preceding  fifty  years,  had  been  two  thousand 
and  eighteen. 

The  life  of  Jenner  becomes  henceforth  iden- 
tified with  the  history  of  vaccination — an  in- 
teresting subject,  but  a bare  outline  of  which 
would  lead  us  beyond  the  limit  of  this  memoir. 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D. 


99 


We  will,  therefore,  now  take  a glance  at  the 
account  left  us  of  the  character  and  private 
life  of  this  remarkable  man. 

If  he  had  much  to  elate  him — and  applause 
certainly  fell  to  his  lot  more  than  most  men 
could  have  borne — his  sensitive  mind  had,  on 
the  other  hand,  much  to  endure,  during  the 
whole  course  of  the  inquiries  and  transactions 
in  which  he  was  engaged.  Severe  and  unme- 
rited reproaches  were  cast  upon  him  by  ene- 
mies, and  he  was  perpetually  wounded  by 
the  desertion  of  friends.  Attempts  were  made 
to  injure  his  reputation,  and  even  to  impeach 
his  moral  character,  and  to  interfere  with  that 
distinction  and  reward  which  his  country  con- 
ferred upon  him.  “ The  persecutors  of  Galileo,” 
says  Dr.  Baron,  “would,  I believe,  have  been 
eclipsed  in  their  monstrous  and  outrageous 
hostility  to  the  splendid  discoveries  of  that 
illustrious  man,  by  some  of  the  opponents  of 
vaccination,  had  the  spirit  of  the  age,  or  their 
own  power,  enabled  them  to  carry  their  designs 
into  execution.”  It  is  to  the  honour  of  Jenner, 
that  it  may  with  truth  be  recorded,  that  he  not 
onlybore  success  and  prosperity  with  a singular 
humility  of  mind,  but  that  he  ever  exercised 
the  utmost  composure  and  forbearance,  and 
always  manifested  a forgiving  disposition  to- 
wards his  calumniators. 

His  general  habits  were  in  perfect  accordance 
with  the  native  and  unaffected  simplicity  of 
his  mind.  Whilst  he  well  knew  how  to  com- 
port himself  with  men  of  elevated  rank,  he 


100 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


loved  to  visit  and  converse  with  his  inferiors, 
and  to  take  a benevolent  interest  in  their  do- 
mestic concerns.  “ If  the  reader  could  in 
imagination  accompany  me  with  him,”  says  his 
biographer,  “ to  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  of 
his  native  village,  and  see  him  kindly  and 
heartily  inquiring  into  their  wants,  and  entering 
into  all  the  little  details  of  their  domestic  eco- 
nomy, or  if  he  could  have  witnessed  him 
listening  with  perfect  patience  and  good-humour 
to  the  history  of  their  maladies,  he  would  have 
seen  an  engaging  instance  of  untiring  benevo- 
lence.” He  was  particularly  fond  of  conversing 
with  people  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life  who  were 
of  a religious  character.  The  general  cast  of 
his  mind  is  said  to  have  exhibited  a happy 
union  of  great  solemnity  and  seriousness  with 
extraordinary  playfulness,  amounting  at  times 
to  the  height  of  mirth  and  jocularity ; — yet  so, 
that  no  one  ever  had  to  complain  that  these 
latter  qualities  were  misplaced,  or  obtruded 
themselves  unseasonably.  He  was  accustomed, 
frequently,  especially  towards  the  close  of  life, 
to  express  his  regret  that  mankind  were  so 
little  alive  to  the  value  of  vaccination.  Amongst 
the  last  words  which  he  addressed  to  his  friend,  " 
Dr.  Baron,  not  many  days  before  his  fatal  sei- 
zure, were,  “ I am  not  surprised  that  men  are 
not  thankful  to  me ; but  I wonder  that  they  are 
not  grateful  to  God  for  the  good  which  he  has 
made  me  the  instrument  of  conveying  to  my 
fellow-creatures.”  Incomparably  great,  how- 
ever, as  was  the  temporal  blessing  which 


EDV'AED  JENNER,  M.D. 


101 


Jenner  was  enabled  to  confer,  he  knew  its  com- 
parative importance  ; he  was  well  aware  that 
there  was  an  instrumentality  in  operation  of  a 
higher  order,  because  it  respects  that  imperish- 
able part  of  man’s  nature,  concerning  which, 
He  who  could  look  through  the  destinies  of  a 
coming  eternity  Himself  declared,  “ What  shall 
it  profit  a man,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world, 
and  lose  his  own  soul  ?”  Of  this  the  following 
interesting  anecdote,  in  the  “ Life  of  the  late 
Rev.  Rowland  Hill,”  furnishes  evidence.  It  is 
well  known,  that  that  somewhat  eccentric,  but 
excellent  man,  warmly  espoused  the  Jennerian 
discovery,  and  frequently  offered  his  services 
from  the  pulpit  to  carry  it  into  effect.  He  is 
said  to  have  vaccinated  10,000  individuals  with 
his  own  hands.  A warm  friendship  subsisted 
between  him  and  Jenner.  Although  the  latter 
did  not  fully  participate  in  his  venerable  friend’s 
religious  views  and  feelings,  he  had  the  greatest 
reverence  for  his  character,  was  a frequent 
attendant  on  his  ministry  at  Cheltenham,  and 
was  at  times  forcibly  struck  with  the  deep  tone 
of  his  piety,  and  glowing  anticipations  of  hap- 
piness in  a future  state.  Mr.  Hill  once  intro- 
duced his  friend  to  a nobleman  in  these  terms: 
“ Allow  me  to  present  to  your  lordship  my 
friend  Dr.  Jenner,  who  has  been  the  means  of 
saving  more  lives  than  any  other  man.”  “ Ah !” 
replied  Jenner,  “ would  I,  like  you,  could  say, 
souls !” 

It  was  Jenner’s  happiness  to  be  blest  with  a 
“ helpmeet,”  who  not  only  herself  experienced 
9* 


102 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


“ peace”  from  the  best  of  all  sources,  but  was 
enabled  to  extend  to  all  around  the  influence 
of  that  spirit  which  sustained  and  comforted 
her.  “ I do  not  mean  to  aflirm,”  says  Dr. 
Baron,  “that  Dr.  Jenner  at  all  times,  or 
during  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  participated 
in  the  deep  and  inexhaustible  sources  of 
strength  and  consolation,  which  so  manifestly 
nourished  the  heart,  and  guided  the  under- 
standing of  his  partner,  but  I should  act 
unjustly  by  that  principle  that  directed  her, 
were  I not  to  avow  it  as  my  firm  conviction, 
that  it  is  to  her  devout  and  holy  life,  and  her 
meek  and  firm  and  consistent  conduct,  that  we 
are  in  some  measure  enabled  to  dwell  with  so 
much  pleasure  on  the  memory  of  her  husband. 
I remember,  when  discussing  with  him  certain 
questions,  touching  the  condition  of  man  in 
this  life,  and  when  dwelling  on  the  deformity 
of  the  heart,  our  blindness,  our  ignorance,  the 
evils  connected  with  our  physical  structure,  our 
crimes,  our  calamities,  and  our  unfathomable 
capacity  both  for  suffering  and  enjoyment,  he 
observed,  4 Mrs.  Jenner  can  explain  all  these 
things,  they  cause  no  difficulty  to  her.’  ” For 
many  years  before  her  death,  this  excellent 
woman  was  chiefly  confined  to  her  own  apart- 
ments. During  this  trying  period,  the  tender- 
ness and  delicacy  with  which  Jenner  superin- 
tended everything  that  could  be  thought  of 
for  her  comfort,  the  administration  of  her 
medicine,  and  the  preparation  of  her  food, 
(which  a difficult  deglutition  rendered  neces- 


EDWARD  JENNER,  M.D.  103 

sary,)  all  indicated  the  warmest  attachment  and 
the  kindliest  feelings.  The  unaffected  cheer- 
fulness and  thankfulness  with  which,  amidst 
her  pain,  she  received  such  offices,  was  truly 
instructive.  This  temper  was  conspicuous  at 
all  times — in  the  day  of  comparative  health  as 
at  the  hour  of  death.  She  was  removed  from 
this  world  to  a better  in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber, 1815. 

The  susceptible  mind  of  Jenner  was  deeply 
affected  by  this  severe  trial,  and  with  it  his 
public  life  may  be  said  to  have  terminated. 
He  never  again  left  Berkley  except  for  a day 
or  two.  But  he  did  not  waste  time  in  unavail- 
ing grief.  As  soon  as  he  had  in  some  measure 
recovered  the  buoyancy  of  his  feelings,  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  life,  though  darkened 
by  domestic  affliction,  in  that  cheerful  devotion 
to  useful  knowledge  which  distinguished  his 
earlier  years.  Another  event  of  a mournful 
character,  which  happened  not  very  long  before 
his  own  death,  rendered  his  condition  still 
more  desolate.  His  only  daughter,  Catherine, 
who  had  married  J.  G.  Bedford,  esq.  of  Edg- 
baston,  near  Birmingham,  died  a few  days  after 
giving  birth  to  her  first  child. 

Dr.  Jenner  was  himself  removed  by  death  in 
consequence  of  a sudden  attack  of  apoplexy,  in 
* February  1823,  in  the  seventy-fourth  year  of 
his  age. 

The  following  statement  is  worthy  of  notice, 
as  having  been  found  on  the  back  of  a letter, 
written  apparently  only  a few  days  before  his 


104 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


death,  and  as  being,  in  all  probability,  the  last 
sentence  which  he  ever  wrote  upon  the  subject; 
“ My  opinion  of  vaccination  is  precisely  as  it 
was  when  I first  promulgated  the  discovery.  It  is 
not  in  the  least  strengthened  by  any  event  that 
has  happened,  for  it  could  gain  no  strength; 
it  is  not  in  the  least  weakened,  for  if  the  failures 
you  speak  of  had  not  happened,  the  truth  of 
my  assertions  respecting  those  coincidences 
which  occasioned  them  would  not  have  been 
made  out.” 

A statue  was  erected  to  his  memory  in  his 
native  county;  but  it  is  matter  of  surprise  and 
regret,  that  neither  in  Westminster  Abbey  nor 
in  any  other  public  building,  has  any  national 
monument  been  raised  to  him. 

% 

JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 

John  Mason  Good  was  the  son  of  the  rev. 
Peter  Good,  and  on  his  mother’s  side,  was  nearly 
related  to  John  Mason,  author  of  the  well- 
known  “Treatise  on  Self-Knowledge” — a 
grandson  of  the  rev.  John  Mason,  rector  of 
Water  Stratford,  in  Buckinghamshire,  whose 
“ Select  Remains”  have  likewise  had  a deser- 
vedly wide  circulation.  He  received  the  rudi- 
ments of  education  in  a seminary  conducted 
by  his  father,  and  early  evinced  those  mental 
feelings  and  capabilities  which  contributed  to 
the  ultimate  development  of  a no  ordinary 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


105 


character.  Delighting  in  intellectual  pursuits 
of  every  kind— blessed  throughout  life  with 
corporeal  vigour,  and  the  highest  degree  of 
mental  elasticity — endowed  with  a memory 
extraordinarily  retentive,  from  the  ample  stores 
of  which  he  could  draw  at  any  time  with  the 
greatest  promptness,  he  excelled  alike  in  ac- 
quiring, retaining,  and  imparting  knowledge. 
Combining  the  opposite  attributes  of  contem- 
plation and  activity,  he  attained  unusual  emi- 
nence, not  only  in  his  profession,  but  as  a man 
of  general  science — not  in  one  department  of 
literature  merely,  but  in  many  at  the  same 
time.  Benevolent,  communicative,  and  habit- 
ually cheerful,  there  was  a charm  in  his  so- 
ciety which  delighted  all  who  were  privileged 
to  enjoy  it,  and  in  every  relation  of  life  he  was 
esteemed  and  beloved  in  no  ordinary  degree. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  young  Good  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a general  practitioner  at  Gosport, 
in  whose  employ  his  time  was  necessarily  much 
occupied,  but  he  still  found  leisure  to  increase 
his  already  ample  literary  and  scientific  store 
of  knowledge,  as  well  as  to  exercise  his  powers 
in  original  composition.  At  this  early  age,  he 
wrote  many  poems,  and  his  taste  as  well  as 
diligence  were  exemplified  by  a volume  of 
extracts,  in  which  he  laid  nearly  one  hundred 
authors — Greek,  Latin,  French,  Italian,  and 
English — under  contribution.  The  winter  of 
1783-4  was  spent  in  London.  He  was  now  in 
his  twentieth  year,  and,  meeting  with  a few 
associates  of  kindred  minds,  we  may  readily 


106 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


imagine  how  ardently  he  would  pursue  his 
professional  and  scientific  inquiries.  No  sooner 
was  the  session  finished,  than  we  find  him, 
with  strong  recommendation  from  his  hospital 
friends,  entering  at  once  into  partnership  with 
Mr.  Deeks,  a respectable  surgeon  at  Sudbury, 
in  Suffolk  ; and,  within  the  short  space  of  a 
few  months,  that  gentleman  left  the  entire 
business  in  his  hands. 

At  this  juncture,  Mr.  Good  appeared  to  have 
reached  the  very  summit  of  earthly  happiness. 
Engaged  in  pursuits  congenial  to  his  taste,  and 
possessing  cheerful  and  engaging  manners, 
combined  with  a disposition  ready  to  evince 
the  liveliest  sympathy  in  cases  where  it  was 
most  needed,  manjr  proofs  of  his  surgical  skill 
soon  were  given,  which  imparted  a solidity  and 
extent  to  his  reputation,  beyond  what  could 
have  been  anticipated.  He  was,  moreover, 
united  to  a highly  accomplished  and  amiable 
young  lady,  to  whom  he  was  affectionately 
attached.  But  alas  ! there  was  a worm  at  the 
root  of  this  felicity.  In  little  more  than  six 
months  after  their  marriage,  his  youthful  bride 
died  of  consumption,  and  it  was  his  bitter  lot 
to  experience  that 

“ Cords  which  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure, 

Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe.’' 

After  Mr.  Good  had  remained  for  four  years 
a widower,  endeavouring,  by  professional 
avocations,  scientific  pursuits,  and  the  soothing 
influence  of  society,  to  recover  his  native 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


107 


cheerfulness,  he  again  married,  and  the  object 
of  his  choice  was  a daughter  of  Thomas 
Fenn,  esq.,  a highly  respectable  ' banker  at 
Sudbury. 

In  the  year  1792,  either  by  becoming  legally 
bound  for  some  friends,  or  by  advancing  them 
a large  sum  of  money,  as  to  the  expected  re- 
payment of  which  he  was  disappointed,  Mr. 
Good  was  brought  into  circumstances  of  con- 
siderable pecuniary  embarrassment.  Mr.  Fenn 
cheerfully  stepped  forward  to  remove  his  diffi- 
culties, and  would  have  rendered  him  more 
effectual  aid,  had  not  Mr.  Good  resolved  that 
perplexities,  resulting  from  his  own  want  of 
caution,  should  be  removed  principally  by  his 
own  exertions  ; and  he  forthwith  entered  upon 
a course  of  literary  activity,  which,  though 
interrupted  by  repeated  disappointments,  did 
ultimately  issue  in  the  desired  end.  He  for- 
warded numerous  contributions  to  periodical 
publications;  he  wrote  plays;  he  composed 
poems;  he  prepared  a series  of  philosophical 
essays ; and  at  length  determined  on  removing 
to  London,  where,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
following  year,  he  accepted  a proposal  to  go 

into  partnership  with  a Mr.  W , a surgeon 

and  apothecary  in  extensive  practice,  and  who 
had  likewise  an  official  connexion  with  one  of 
the  prisons.  But  in  this  connexion  he  met 
with  nothing  but  perplexity  and  trial.  Mr.  W. 
became  jealous  of  his  talents  and  rising 
popularity,  and  had  recourse  to  the  basest 
means  to  injure  his  reputation ; the  business 


108 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


failed ; the  partnership  was  dissolved,  and  Mr. 
W.  died  in  the  Fleet  prison.  All  these  cir- 
cumstances, however, — the  defeat  of  projects  on 
which  his  hopes  had  been  fondly  fixed,  and  an 
increasing  family,— did  but  supply  Mr.  Good 
with  fresh  incentives  to  professional  activity 
and  extended  literary  research.  Again  he 
shrank  from  a full  reception  of  the  aid  once 
more  offered  to  him  by  his  kind  relative  at 
Sudbury,  and,  concealing  his  anxieties  from 
those  he  most  loved,  still  continued  to  rely  upon 
his  own  exertions  for  success,  till  he  was  at 
length  placed  by  them,  under  God’s  blessing, 
in  reputable  and  easy  circumstances. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  enabled  to 
obtain  that  distinction  amongst  medical  men 
which  he  eagerly  sought.  In  February,  1795, 
he  gained  a prize — a premium  of  twenty 
guineas — from  the  “Medical  Society,”  for  the 
best  dissertation  upon  the  question,  “ What  are 
the  diseases  most  frequent  in  workhouses,  poor- 
houses,  and  similar  institutions  ; and  what  are 
the  best  means  of  cure  and  of  prevention  ?” 
which  he  was  requested  to  publish  imme- 
diately'. And  he  also  became  an  active 
member  of  a society,  formed  in  the  year  1794, 
under  the  title  of  the  “ General  Pharmaceutic 
Association,”  the  object  of  which  was  to  pre- 
serve the  distinction  between  the  apothecary 
and  the  druggist,  which  it  was  feared,  unless 
some  special  efforts  were  adopted,  would  soon 
be  altogether  lost.  Not  only  in  London,  but 
throughout  Great  Britain,  men  of  the  most 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D.  100 

illiterate  character,  and  grossly  ignorant  of  the 
science  of  medicine,  did  not  hesitate  to  combine 
the  practice  of  it  with  the  business  of  retailing 
drugs,  to  which,  in  the  country,  the  depart- 
ment of  u grocer”  was  occasionally  added. 
Some  of  these  drug-dealing  grocers,  at  Marlow, 
had  substituted,  for  want  of  better  knowledge, 
arsenic  for  cream  of  tartar,  tinctures  of  opium 
and  jalap  for  those  of  senna  and  rhubarb, 
and  nitre  for  Glauber’s  salts.  A physician 
at  Worcester  had  prescribed  for  a patient. 
“ Decoct . Cascarill^e,”  to  which  he  added 
“ Tinct.  ejusdem”  (of  the  same.)  This  pre- 
scription was  sent  to  a druggist  in  that  city  to 
be  made  up,  but  in  vain  was  the  shop  searched 
by  the  principal  assistant,  for  a bottle  labelled 
“ Tinct.  ejusdem.”  An  equally  fruitless  search 
was  made  through  all  the  druggists’  shops  in 
that  city.  At  length  the  conclusion  was 
arrived  at,  that  so  scarce  a tincture  as  the 
“ Tinct.  ejusdem”  certainly  must  be,  was  not 
to  be  met  with  in  Worcester,  and  the  prescrip- 
tion was  actually  returned,  with  the  request, 

that  Dr. would  be  so  good  as  to  substitute 

some  other  tincture  instead  of  it.  A mistake 
of  more  serious  consequence  had  also  occurred 
in  the  same  city.  Two  drams  of  “ Tinct.  Opii 
CampJiT  had  been  ordered  in  a draught  for  a 
boy  of  ten  years  of  age.  But  the  druggist’s 
shopman,  not  being  aware  that  this  was  the 
technical  name  for  “ paregoric  elixir,”  made  it 
up  with  two  drams  of  Tinct.  Opii  (laudanum,) 
advising  the  mother  to  give  the  child  only  half 
10 


110 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


the  draught,  but  that  proved  sufficiently  strong 
to  deprive  him  of  life  in  twenty-four  hours. 
These  are  a few  only  out  of  many  instances  of 
the  numerous  mistakes — sometimes  ludicrous, 
sometimes  truly  horrible — which  were  at  that 
time  notoriously  committed.  Engaging  very 
warmly  in  the  objects  of  this  association,  at 
whose  suggestion  he  drew  up  a “ History  of 
Medicine,  as  far  as  relates  to  the  profession  of 
the  Apothecary,”  and  in  others  connected  with 
his  profession,  Mr.  Good  still  continued  to  pur- 
sue his  literary  inquiries,  and,  as  heretofore,  to 
soothe  his  mind  by  the  delights  of  poetry. 
Translations  from  the  poets  of  France  and 
Italy  now  occupied  much  of  his  comparatively 
leisure  hours.  In  a letter  to  his  friend  Dr. 
Drake,  in  October,  1799,  he  speaks  of  “ having 
just  begun  the  German  language,  after  having 
gone  with  tolerable  ease  through  the  French, 
Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese and,  not 
very  long  after,  he  informs  him  he  had  been 
“ sedulously  studying  Arabic  and  Persian.” 
About  this  time,  he  commenced,  and,  in  two 
years,  completed,  a translation  of  Lucretius, 
“ On  the  Nature  of  Things,”  an  undertaking  in 
which  he  engaged,  according  to  his  own  state- 
ment, that  he  might  bring  himself  under  a 
moral  necessity  of  becoming  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  the  utmost  possible  variety  of 
subjects  upon  which  men  of  science  had  been 
able  to  throw  any  light.  This  translation  was 
carried  on  in  a way  not  very  usual  with  works 
of  such  magnitude— it  was  composed  in  the 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D.  Ill 

streets  of  London,  during  the  translator’s  exten- 
sive walks  to  visit  his  numerous  patients.  His 
practice  was  to  take  in  his  pocket  two  or  three 
leaves  of  an  octavo  edition  of  the  original  ; to 
read  over  a passage  two  or  three  times  as  he 
walked  along,  until  he  had  engraven  it  upon 
his  ready  memory ; then  to  translate  the 
passage,  meditate  upon  his  translation,  correct 
and  elaborate  it,  until  he  had  satisfied  himself ; 
and,  after  he  had  returned  home,  and  disposed 
of  all  his  professional  business,  he  would  go 
to  his  standing  desk,  and  enter  upon  his 
manuscript  so  much  of  the  translation  as  he 
had  been  able  to  prepare  satisfactorily.  - During 
several  following  years,  in  addition  to  the  task 
of  compiling  elaborate  notes  and  a running 
commentary  in  connexion  with  the  above 
translation,  Mr.  Good  contributed  largely  to 
the  Analytical  and  Critical  Review,  the  British 
and  Monthly  Magazines,  and,  besides  smaller 
pieces,  published  a “ Memoir  of  the  Life  and 
Writings  of  Dr.  Geddes.”  Nor  was  this  all. 
In  a letter  to  the  friend  above  mentioned, 
dated  January  29,  1803 — when,  notwithstand- 
ing these  engagements,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
walking  from  twelve  to  fourteen  miles  a day 
to  visit  his  patients — adverting  with  thankful- 
ness to  the  state  of  his  practice  as  a surgeon, 
(which  then  produced  more  than  1400/.  per 
annum,)  he  proceeds  thus:  “ I have  edited  the 
Critical  Review,  besides  writing  several  of  its 
most  elaborate  articles.  I have  every  week 
supplied  a column  of  matter  for  the  1 Sunday 


112 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


Review,’  and  for  some  days  have  had  the  great 
weight  of  the  ‘British  Press’  upon  my  hands  ; 
the  committee  for  conducting  which  having 
applied  to  me  lately,  in  the  utmost  consterna- 
tion, in  consequence  of  a trick  put  upon  them 
by  the  proprietors  of  other  newspapers,  and 
which  stopped  abruptly  the  exertions  of  their 
editor,  and  several  of  their  most  valuable 
hands.”  It  should  also  be  mentioned,  that  a 
work  which  Mr.  Good  undertook,  in  con- 
junction with  Dr.  Olinthus  Gregory  and  Mr. 
Newton  Bos  worth,  entitled  “Pantologia;  or,  a 
Universal  Dictionary  of  Arts,  Sciences,  and 
Words,”  and  which  was  published  in  twelve 
thick  and  closely- printed  volumes,  royal  octavo, 
occupied  much  of  his  time  between  the  years 
1804  and  1812.  It  seems  difficult  to  imagine 
how  he  could,  with  any  degree  of  efficiency, 
have  pursued  such  a vaiiety  of  occupations; 
but  such,  it  is  said,  w-as  the  “ energy  of  his 
mind,  and  such  his  habits  of  activity  and  order, 
that  he  carried  them  all  forward  simultaneously, 
suffering  none  to  be  neglected,  left  in  arrear, 
or  inadequately  executed.” 

Plitherto  it  might  emphatically  be  said  of 
Mr.  Good,  “ But  one  thing  thou  lackest that 
one,  hovrever,  by  far  the  most  momentous  of 
all.  But  the  early  dawn  of  a brighter  day  wTas 
nowT  approaching.  At  first,  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible, but  gradual,  change  took  place  in  his 
religious  view's  and  prospects.  The  “ day- 
spring from  on  high  ” visited  him,  enabled  him 
to  emerge  from  the  darkness  even  of  Socinian 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


113 


heresy ; guided  his  feet  into  the  “ way  of  peace 
and  shone  with  increasing  brightness  upon  his 
latter  years,  till  it  conducted  his  happy  spirit 
to  that  city  which  “the  glory  of  God”  doth 
lighten,  “ and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.” 

In  consequence,  probably,  of  early  associa- 
tions, Mr.  Good  always  expressed,  and  no  doubt 
felt,  a high  respect  for  religion  and  religious 
men,  and  appears  never  to  have  called  in  ques- 
tion the  genuineness  and  Divine  authority  of 
the  sacred  Scriptures  ; but  before  he  left 
Sudbury,  he  avowed  his  belief  in  materialism, 
and  the  doctrine  of  Universalists  wdth  regard 
to  future  punishment,  and  selected  for  his  prin- 
cipal associates  some  gentlemen  who  maintained 
the  soul-destroying  tenets  of  modern  Socinian- 
ism.  On  his  removal  to  London,  he  was,  un- 
happily, induced  to  join  the  most  celebrated 
Unitarian  congregation  of  the  day,  and  he  con- 
tinued in  connexion  with  it  for  fourteen  years. 
During  all  this  time,  the  Bible  was  always  a 
favourite  book  with  him,  but  it  is  to  be  feared 
he  turned  to  it  rather  as  a source  of  literary 
amusement  or  critical  speculation,  than  for  any 
higher  purposes.  But  his  mind,  as  he  after- 
wards confessed,  was  ill  at  ease.  Early  recol- 
lections of  better  sentiments  often  assailed  him. 
Numerous  engagements,  and  the  delights  of 
the  literary  society  into  which  he  was  intro- 
duced soon  after  his  removal  to  town,  enabled 
him,  in  a great  measure,  to  stifle  such  convic- 
tions, but  without  the  possession  of  inward 
serenity  or  peace.  Still  he  was,  in  a measure, 
10* 


114 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


preserved  from  some  of  the  worst  tendencies  of 
the  system ; and  when  his  teacher,  the  notorious 
Mr.  Belsham,  used  language  in  the  pulpit 
which  Mr.  Good  regarded  as  equivalent  to  the 
recommendation  of  scepticism,  he  at  once  wrote 
a note  to  him,  stating  that  he  felt  compelled,  with 
much  reluctance,  to  discontinue  attendance  at 
his  chapel,  and  to  break  off  connexion  with  his 
society.  This  circumstance  led  him  to  a re- 
examination of  all  the  sentiments  held  by  them 
in  common,  and  the  consequence  was,  a gradual 
surrender  of  all  the  leading  tenets  of  the  Soci- 
nian  creed,  and  a corresponding  adoption  of 
sentiments  more  and  more  in  unison  with  the 
great  fundamental  doctrines  of  scriptural  Chris- 
tianity. As  yet,  however,  he  looked  upon 
them  as  little  more  than  speculative  opinions, 
simply  preferable  to  those  he  had  just  aban- 
doned. It  was  still  a considerable  time  before 
they  assumed  the  character  of  principles  of 
action,  and  issued,  by  the  teaching  and  blessing 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  in  the  transformation  of 
his  heart  and  affections.  This  great  change 
was  brought  about  in  so  very  imperceptible  a 
manner,  that  the  precise  epoch  of  it  was  not 
known  to  his  nearest  friends — probably  not  to 
Mr.  Good  himself ; but  its  reality  was  indis- 
putable. One  thing  was  evident  to  all,  that 
whereas  he  u was  once  blind, he  subsequently 
obtained  the  sense  of  spiritual  sight ; and  it  was 
with  no  small  emotions  of  joy,  that  some  who 
had  mourned  over  the  midnight  darkness  of 
such  a mind,  now  witnessed  the  light  which 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


115 


was  in  him,  shining  tl  more  and  more  unto  the 
perfect  day.”  “ When  }'cu  are  weighing  things 
in  the  balance,”  says  Baxter,  “ you  may  add 
grain  after  grain  and  it  makes  no  turning  or 
motion  at  all,  till  you  come  to  the  very  last 
grain,  and  then  suddenly  that  end  which  was 
downward  is  turned  upward.  So  is  it  (not  un- 
frequently)  in  the  change  of  a sinner’s  heart 
and  life ; he  is  not  changed  (but  preparing  to- 
wards it)  while  he  is  but  deliberating  whether 
he  should  choose  Christ  or  the  world.  But  the 
last  reason  which  comes  in  and  determineth  his 
will  to  Christ,  and  maketh  him  resolve  and 
enter  a firm  covenant  with  him,  this  makes  the 
greatest  change  that  ever  is  made  by  any  work 
in  the  world.  For  how  can  there  be  a greater 
than  the  turning  of  a soul  from  the  creature  to 
the  Creator  ? so  distant  are  the  terms  of  this 
change.  After  this  one  turning  act,  Christ 
hath  that  heart,  and  the  main  bent  and  endea- 
vours of  the  life,  which  the  world  had  before. 
The  man  hath  a new  end,  a new  rule,  a new 
guide,  and  a new  Master.”  Thus  it  was  with 
Mr.  Good ; furnishing  one  instance  among 
many  of  that  striking  diversity  of  operations 
wherewith  the  same  Spirit  worketh  all  in  all. 
However  long  there  might  continue  an  uncer- 
tain suspense,  the'  “ last  grain”  was  at  length 
mercifully  applied,  and  the  indications  of  the 
balance  were  no  longer  doubtful.  In  accom- 
plishing and  confirming  this  change,  several 
afflicting  dispensations  of  Providence  seem  to 
have  been  in  a great  measure  instrumental. 


116 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


For  a considerable  period  Mrs.  Good’s  health 
was  very  indifferent,  and  at  a season  when  she 
had  been  longer  than  usual  well,  both  their 
daughters  were  afflicted,  almost  simultaneously, 
with  protracted  and  dangerous  indispositions. 
The  family  were  then  on  a visit  to  Mr.  Good’s 
son-in-law  at  South  End,  and  Mr.  G.  was  for 
six  or  seven  weeks  in  succession,  engaged  dur- 
ing the  day  in  his  professional  pursuits,  and 
during  the  night  most  sedulously  and  solicit- 
ously watching  the  sick  beds  of  his  afflicted 
children.  At  this  season  of  parental  anxiety 
he  scarcely  got  any  sleep,  except  as  he  tra- 
velled from  South  End  to  his  house  in  town. 
But  he  seems  to  have  heard  “ the  rod,  and  who 
hath  appointed  it,”  deriving  from  these  afflictions 
a deeper  sense  of  the  uncertainty  of  life  and  its 
enjoyments;  of  the  sovereignty  of  God;  the  effi- 
cacy of  faith;  and  the  delight  of  resignation 
upon  those  Christian  principles  the  reality  of 
which  he  now  felt.  In  the  year  1823,  he  met 
with  a farther  trial  in  the  loss  of  his  beloved 
son-in-law,  the  rev.  Cornelius  Neale.*  “ The 
conflict  is  now  over,”  he  writes  to  Dr.  Drake 
on  August  18th  in  that  year;  “he  has  entered 
into  his  rest,  as  you  may  have  probably  seen 
by  the  newspapers,  on  Friday  the  8th  inst. 
He  suffered  much  at  times,  and  the  pain  alone 

* Mr.  Neale  was  a Fellow  of  St.  John’s  College,  Cambridge, 
in  which  university  he  was  Senior  Wrangler,  Chancellor’s 
Second  Medallist,  and  obtained  Dr.  Smith’s  first  mathematical 
prize.  His  “Literary  Remains”  were  published  in  a small 
volume,  edited  by  his  friend,  the  rev.  Wm.  Jowett,  to  vliicli  is 
prefixed  a most  interesting  memoir. 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD.  M.D. 


117 


was  sufficient — and  especially  towards  tlie  close 
of  the  struggle — to  throw  him  into  severe  per- 
spiration; but  his  remark  was,  4 My  Saviour 
sweated  drops  of  blood  for  me,’  and  this  up- 
held him"  It  was  a severe  conflict  to  break  olf 
his  strong  attachment  to  his  beloved  children, 
and  his  still  more  beloved  'syife ; and  yet,  at  last, 
he  was  enabled  to  make  a total  surrender  of 
himself  to  the  will  of  God,  and  for  months  had 
his  conversation  in  heaven  far  more  than  on 

earth During  the  night  before  his 

departure,  it  was  observed  by  Mrs.  Good,  who 
sat  up  by  him,  that  she  was  fearful  the  night 
had  been  tedious  to  him  : he  replied,  4 1 shall 
have  a long  and  glorious  day.’  He  spoke 
prophetically,  and  the  prophecy  was  fulfilled. 
What,  my  dear  friend,  are  all  the  splendour 
and  the  pageantry  in  the  world,  compared  with 
the  sublime  and  solemn  scenes  to  which  I have 
thus  been  an  eye-witness  ? Surely  these  are 
foretastes  of  that  4 fulness  of  joy,’  and  those 
4 pleasures  for  evermore,’  which  are  reserved  at 
the  right  hand  of  God,  for  those  who  are 
favoured  with  so  beatific  a vision.  They  give, 
if  it  were  wanted,  a fresh  and  energetic  stamp 
of  reality  to  the  glorious  manifestation  of  the 
gospel,  and  show  us  for  what  we  were  born, 
and  the  more  important  lesson  how  this  high 
destiny  may  be  obtained.  My  earnest  prayer 
is,  that  the  lesson  may  be  lost  on  no  one  within 
its  sphere  ; and,  with  the  feeble  powers  of  my 
own  pen,  I would  enlarge  that  sphere,  if  possi- 
ble, throughout  the  universe ; and  I would 


118 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


address  it  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  as  impor- 
tunately as  to  myself.” 

Mr.  Good  now  earnestly  cultivated  the  ac- 
quaintance of  pious  men.  After  the  breach  of 
his  connexion  with  the  Unitarian  congregation 
before  mentioned,  he  was,  for  some  time,  an 
attendant  at  the  Temple  Church,  and  afterwards 
at  St.  Dunstan’s,  Fleet  Street ; and  his  private 
intercourse  with  Mr.  Lloyd,  the  rector  of  the 
latter  church,  was  of  much  use  to  him  in  the 
best  of  senses  ; but  during  the  latter  years  of 
his  life,  a cordial  esteem  for  the  minister  and 
his  doctrines  led  him  almost  constantly  to 
worship  at  St.  John’s  Chapel,  Bedford  Bow, 
where  he  availed  himself  of  the  successive 
ministerial  labours  of  the  rev.  D.  Wilson,  the 
present  bishop  of  Calcutta,  and  the  rev.  C. 
Jerram,  until  he  passed  from  all  worshipping 
assemblies  here,  to  join  “ the  general  assembly 
and  church  of  the  first-born,  which  are  written 
in  heaven.” 

It  should  be  mentioned,  that,  in  the  year 
1820,  by  the  advice  of  several  medical  friends, 
and  the  earnest  entreaty  of  others,  Mr.  Good 
had  entered  upon  the  higher  department  of  the 
profession.  His  diploma,  which  is  dated  July 
10th  of  that  year,  was  from  the  Marischal 
College,  Aberdeen.  In  a letter  to  the  friend 
already  mentioned,  dated  February,  1821,  after 
speaking  of  various  professional  topics,  he  adds : 
“ I have  now  tried  my  new  fortune  for  nearly 
six  months,  and  only  wish  I had  felt  it  prudent 
to  have  commenced  earlier ; for  it  has  sue- 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


119 


ceeded  beyond  my  best  expectations.  All  my 
old  circle  of  patients  are,  in  turn,  patients  still, 
without  a single  exception,  so  far  as  I know  ; 
and  I have  added  very  considerably  to  the 
number,  as  well  as  have  to  reply  to  a tolerably 
extensive  range  of  advice  from  the  country  ; 
so  that  my  hands  are  pretty  full  still.”  From 
the  period  of  Dr.  Good’s  assuming  the  practice 
of  a physician,  he  did  not  cease  to  study,  but 
gave  to  his  leading  literary  occupations  an 
appropriate  direction.  At  the  close  of  the  year 
1820,  he  published  his  “ System  of  Nosology,” 
a work  which  had,  more  or  less,  occupied  his 
attention,  since  he  first  laid  down  the  plan  of  it 
in  the  year  1808.  No  sooner  was  this  work 
issued  from  the  press,  than  its  indefatigable 
author  commenced  a still  more  extensive  and 
elaborate  performance,  which  was  published  in 
1822,  in  four  large  octavo  volumes,  entitled, 
“ The  Study  of  Medicine.”  And  in  the  spring 
of  1826,  Dr.  Good  found  time  to  publish  some 
Lectures,  which  he  had,  several  years  before, 
delivered  at  the  Surrey  Institution.  They  are 
contained  in  three  volumes,  entitled  “ The  Book 
of  Nature.”  Other  literary  pursuits,  which 
still  more  engaged  his  heart  and  affections, 
he  carried  on  simultaneously  ; but  the  results 
of  these  he  did  not  live  to  lay  before  the  world. 

During  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  Dr. 
Good  had  enjoyed  excellent  health.  His  con- 
stitution, as  already  intimated,  was  naturally 
robust,  and  the  cheerfulness  of  his  disposition, 
and  activity  of  his  habits,  contributed  to  its 


120 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


preservation.  But,  about  this  time,  liis  friends 
began  to  notice,  with  concern,  that  the  cor- 
poreal vigour  which  had  carried  him,  almost 
unconscious  of  fatigue,  through  so  much  labour, 
was  now  beginning  to  give  way,  and,  during 
the  three  last  months  of  his  life,  his  strength 
declined  rapidly.  On  the  arrival  of  Christmas, 
1826,  he  expressed  much  anxiety  to  visit  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Neale,  and  her  children,  then 
. residing  at  Shepperton,  in  Middlesex.  This 
journey  he  accomplished;  but  it  was  to  enter 
the  chamber  of  death.  His  illness — inflamma- 
tion in  the  bladder — was  short,  but  exceedingly 
severe.  From  Sunday,  Dec.  24th,  to  Thursday, 
the  28th,  it  was  found  requisite  to  administer 
frequent  doses  of  opium,  which  produced  occa- 
sional confusion  of  thought — of  which  he  was 
fully  aware  ; but  this  was  temporary.  All  the 
statements  which  he  gave  of  his  views  and 
feelings,  during  his  illness,  were  made  when 
entirely  collected  and  self-possessed.  A very 
interesting  account  of  these  is  contained  in  a 
letter  from  a member  of  his  family  to  Dr. 
Olinthus  Gregory,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
abstract : — 

“ On  the  evening  of  Saturday,  Dec.  30th, 
the  rev.  W.  Bussell,  rector  of  Shepperton, 
was  sent  for.  On  his  entrance,  Dr.  Good  put 
out  his  hand,  saying,  4 You  are  the  very  person 
whom,  next  to  my  own  family,  I am  most 
anxious  to  see.’  Mr.  Bussell  replied,  1 1 am 
come  for  the  purpose  of  imploring  the  blessing 
of  the  Bedeemer  upon  you.’  Dr.  Good  then 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D.  121 

inquired,  mentioning  their  names  individually, 
if  all  his  family  were  present  ? And  each 
answering,  he  said,  in  almost  his  usual  tone  of 
voice,  and  with  much  composure  of  manner, 
1 1 cannot  say  I feel  those  triumphs  which  some 
Christians  have  experienced ; but  I have  taken 
what,  unfortunately,  the  generality  of  Christians 
too  much  take — I have  taken  the  middle  walk 
of  Christianity;  I have  endeavoured  to  live  up 
to  its  duties  and  doctrines,  but  I have  lived 
below  its  privileges.  I most  firmly  believe  all 
the  doctrines  of  Scripture,  as  declared  by  our 
church.  I have  endeavoured  to  take  God  for 
my  Father  and  my  Saviour;  but  I want  more 
spirituality,  more  humility;  I want  to  be  hum- 
bled.’ Here  he  became  much  agitated,  but 
yet  went  on:  ‘I  have  resigned  myself  to  the 
will  of  God.  If  I know  myself,  I neither 
despair  nor  presume : but  my  constitution  is  by 
nature  sanguine  in  all  things,  so  that  I am 
afraid  of  trusting  to  myself.’  Some  remarks 
being  made  about  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
Dr.  Good  replied,  1 No  man  living  can  be  more 
sensible  than  I am,  that  there  is  nothing  in 
ourselves;  and  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  rely- 
ing only  upon  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ:  I 
know  there  is  a sense  in  which  that  expression 
of  St.  Paul’s,  u of  whom  I am  chief,”  is  appli- 
cable to  all;  but  there  are  some  to  whom  it  is 
peculiarly  appropriate,  and  I fear  I am  one.  I 
have  not  improved  the  opportunities  given  me; 
I have  had  large  opportunities  given  me,  and  I 
have  not  improved  them  as  I might;  I have 
11 


122 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


been  led  astray  by  the  vanity  of  human  learn- 
ing, and  the  love  of  human  applause.’  Mr. 
Russell  asked,  ‘ But  is  there  anything  in  parti- 
cular that  you  wish  me  to  pray  for  ?’  Dr.  Good 
answered,  ‘ No,  I have  endeavoured  to  give  you, 
not  as  a matter  of  form,  but  in  the  sight  of 
God,  a transcript  of  my  feelings.’  1 But,’  re- 
peated Mr.  R.,  ‘is  there  nothing  in  particular 
that  you  wish  me  to  pray  for  ?’  The  reply 
was,  1 I want  to  be  more  humble  under  a sense 
of  sin;  I want  more  spirituality,  more  humility.’ 
Mr.  Russell  accordingly  knelt  down  to  pray, 
but  after  this  testimony  to  the  truth — this 
statement  of  his  feelings,  in  which  all  the 
powers  of  his  soul  and  body  seemed  summoned 
up  and  concentrated,  nature  was  exhausted. 

“ Sunday,  Dec.  31st,  was  a day  of  intense 
agony  and  frequent  wanderings  of  mind  ; but, 
in  the  intervals  of  composure,  and  when  not 
suffering  from  extreme  exacerbations  of  pain, 
some  of  Dr.  G.’s  family  endeavoured  to  repeat 
occasionally  short  texts  of  Scripture,  to  which 
he  always  listened  with  pleasure;  appearing, 
however,  much  more  struck  with  some  than 
with  others.  On  one  occasion,  without  any 
suggestion  or  leading  remark  from  those  around, 
he  was  heard  to  repeat  distinctly,  with  quiver- 
ing, convulsive  lips,  ‘ Ail  the  promises  of  God 
are  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus.’  What 
words  for  dying  lips  to  rest  upon  ! At  another 
time,  as  one  of  his  family  was  sitting  by,  lie 
uttered  some  expression  not  accurately  remem- 
bered, of  deep  sorrow  for  sin.  This  text  was 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D. 


123 


then  mentioned:  4 If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is 
faithful  and  just.’ — He  repeated,  4 Faithful — 
yes,  nothing  can  be  more  suitable !’ 

44  Everything  that  medical  skill  could  suggest 
was  attempted  for  Dr.  Good’s  relief,  by  his 
friends,  Mr.  Cooper,  Dr.  Hooper,  and  Mr.  B. 
Travers,  but  in  vain;  and  on  Monday,  Jan.  1st, 
it  was  but  too  evident  that  life  was  ebbing  fast 
away.  He  still  listened  with  manifest  pleasure 
to  texts  which  were  repeated  at  intervals 
throughout  the  day,  and  his  quivering  lips 
were  continually  re-uttering  the  words  of  Scrip- 
ture, at  times,  when  intense  agony  occasioned 
such  convulsive  motions  that  the  bed  shook 
under  him.  His  youngest  daughter,  who  was 
holding  his  cold  hands,  said  to  him,  4 Do  you 
remember  your  favourite  hymn,  44  There  is  a 
fountain  filled  with  blood  ?”  etc.’  He  had  repeated 
it  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  illness,  and  told  Mr. 
Russell,  that,  sometimes  when  walking  through 
the  streets  of  London,  he  used  to  repeat  it  to 
himself.  In  one  instance,  he  altered  it  uninten- 
tionally, but  still  strictly  preserving  the  sense, 
in  a manner  which  showed  that  his  mental 
powers  were  yet  vigorous.  Instead  of, 

* When  this  poor  lisping,  stammering  tongue 
Lies  silent  in  the  grave,’ 

He  substituted, 

* When  this  decaying,  mouldering  frame 
Lies  crumbling  in  the  dust.’ 

And  a text  on  which  he  dwelt  with  much 
earnestness  and  delight,  was,  4 Jesus  Christ, 


124 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for  ever;’ 
circumstances  which  evinced,  in  no  slight 
degree,  how  totally  changed  were  his  religious 
views  and  feelings  from  those  that  he  formerly 
possessed.  Another  text,  which,  without  any 
suggestion  or  leading  remark,  he  repeated 
several  times,  was — ‘ Who  art  thou,  O great 
mountain?  before  Zerubbabel  thou  shalt  become 
a plain ; and  he  shall  bring  forth  the  headstone 
thereof  with  shoutings,  crying,  Grace,  grace 
unto  it’  — dwelling  with  peculiar  emphasis 
upon  the  words,  ‘ Grace,  grace  unto  it.’  He 
also  listened  with  much  apparent  comfort  to 
that  portion  of  the  Te  Deum , ‘ When  thou 
hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou 
didst  open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  be- 
lievers.’ On  the  afternoon  of  this  day  he  was 
constantly  convulsed,  and  uttered  but  one  or 
two  connected  sentences.  But  his  power  of 
comprehension  appeared  to  last  much  longer 
than  his  power  of  articulation  or  expression. 
His  hearing  now  became  greatly  affected.  Mr. 
Bussell  called  to  him  with  a loud  voice,  ‘ Jesus 
Christ  the  Saviour.’  He  was  not  insensible  to 
that  sound.  His  valued  clerical  friend  then 
repeated  to  him,  in  the  same  elevated  tone, 
1 Behold  the  Lamb  of  God.’  This  roused  him, 
and  with  energy — the  energy  of  a 'dying  be- 
liever— he  terminated  the  sentence,  * which 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world;’  and  these 
were  the  last  words  he  intelligibly  uttered, 
being  about  three  hours  before  his  death. 
Mr.  Bussell  twice  commended  the  departing 


JOHN  MASON  GOOD,  M.D.  125 

spirit  into  the  hands  of  Him  who  gave  it.  The 
last  time  was  about  one  o’clock  on  the  morning 
of  Tuesday,  the  2nd  of  Jan.  1827  ; and  at 
four  o’clock  the  same  morning,  the  breath, 
which  had  gradually  become  shorter  and 
shorter,  ceased  entirely.” 

Amongst  Dr.  Good’s  papers  was  found  the 
following,  which  we  here  transcribe,  as  evincing 
the  spirit  of  prayer  in  which,  during  the  latter 
years  of  life,  his  practice  was  conducted : — 

u July  27,  1823.  Form  of  prayer,  which 
I purpose  to  use  among  others,  so  long  as  it 
may  please  God  that  I shall  continue  in  the 
exercise  of  my  profession  ; and  which'  is  here 
copied  out,  not  so  much  to  assist  my  own 
memory,  as  to  give  a hint  to  many  who  may 
perhaps  feel  thankful  for  it  when  I am  removed 
to  a state  where  personal  vanity  can  have  no 
access,  and  the  opinion  of  the  world  can  be  no 
longer  of  any  importance.  I should  wish  it  to 
close  the  subsequent  editions  of  my  4 Study  of 
Medicine.’  ” 

uO  thou  great  Bestower  of  health,  strength, 
and  comfort,  grant  thy  blessing  upon  the  pro- 
fessional duties  in  which  this  day  I may  engage. 
Give  me  judgment  to  discern  disease,  and  skill 
to  treat  it  ; and  crown  with  thy  favour  the 
means  that  may  be  devised  for  recovery  ; for 
with  thine  assistance  the  humblest  instrument 
may  succeed,  as,  without  it,  the  ablest  must 
prove  unavailing.  Save  me  from  all  sordid 
motives,  and  endow  me  with  a spirit  of  pity 
and  liberality  towards  the  poor,  and  of  tender- 
11* 


126 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


ness  and  sympathy  towards  all,  that  I may 
enter  into  the  various  feelings  by  which  they 
are  respectively  tried,  may  weep  with  those 
that  weep,  and  rejoice  with  those  that  rejoice. 

“ And  sanctify  their  souls,  as  well  as  heal 
their  bodies.  Let  faith  and  patience  and  every 
Christian  virtue  they  are  called  upon  to  exercise 
have  their  perfect  work  ; so  that  in  the  gracious 
dealings  of  thy  Spirit  and  thy  providence,  they 
may  find  in  the  end,  whatever  that  end  may  be, 
that  it  has  been  good  for  them  to  have  been 
afflicted. 

“ Grant  this,  O heavenly  Father,  for  the  love 
of  that  adorable  Redeemer,  who  while  on  earth 
went  about  doing  good,  and  now  ever  liveth  to 
make  intercession  in  heaven.  Amen.” 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 

Dr..  Gooch  was  a native  of  Yarmouth,  in  Nor- 
folk, at  which  place  he  was  born  in  June,  1784. 
His  father  commanded  a vessel  in  the  merchant 
service,  but  his  circumstances  were  limited, 
and  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  give  his  son  a 
classical  education.  At  the  age  of  fifteen,  he 
was  apprenticed  to  Mr.  Borrett,  a surgeon  and 
apothecary  in  his  native  town.  Without  any 
assistance  from  others,  he  now  began  the  study 
of  Latin,  and  persevered  till  he  was  able  to  read 
that  language  with  tolerable  facility. 

Possessed  of  a highly  imaginative  mind, 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


127 


Gooch  was  not  only  in  the  habit  of  indulging 
many  a waking  reverie,  but  was  accustomed 
to  attach  much  importance  to  dreaming,  as  we 
shall  have  again  occasion  to  notice.  The 
following  extract  from  one  of  his  loose  papers 
gives  us  some  insight  into  his  habit  of  reverie 
and  is  interesting  as  descriptive  of  his  habits 
at  a very  early  period. 

“ From  the  age  of  fifteen  to  twenty-one  I was 
an  apprentice  to  a country  surgeon;  and  when 
I had  nothing  else  to  do,  no  pills  to  roll,  nor 
mixtures  to  compose,  I used,  by  the  advice  of 
my  master,  to  go  up  into  my  bed-room,  and 
there  with  Cheselden,  before  me,  learn  the  ana- 
tomy of  the  bones,  by  the  aid  of  some  loose 
ones,  together  with  a whole  articulated  skeleton, 
which  hung  up  in  a box  at  the  foot  of  my  bed. 
It  was  some  time  before  I overcame  the  awe 
with  which  I used  to  approach  this  formidable 
personage.  At  first,  even  by  daylight,  I liked 
to  have  some  one  in  the  room  during  my  inter- 
views with  him ; and  at  night,  when  I lay  down 
in  my  bed  and  beheld  the  painted  door  which 
inclosed  him,  I was  often  obliged  to  make  an 
effort  to  think  of  something  else.  One  summer 
night,  at  my  usual  hour  of  retiring  to  rest,  I 
went  up  to  my  bed-rooin — it  was  in  the  attic 
story,  and  overlooked  the  sea,  not  a quarter  of 
a mile  off.  It  was  a bright  moonlight  night, 
the  air  was  sultry,  and  after  undressing  I stood 
for  some  time  at  my  window,  looking  out  on 
the  moonlit  sea,  and  watching  a white  sail 
which  now  and  then  passed.  I shall  never 


128 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


have  such  another  bed-room,  so  high  up,  so 
airy,  and  commanding  such  a prospect  ; or, 
probably,  even  if  I had,  it  would  never  look 
so  beautiful,  for  then  was  the  spring-time  of 
my  life,  when  the  gloss  of  novelty  was  fresh  on 
all  the  objects  that  surrounded  me,  and  I looked 
with  unmingled  hope  upon  the  distant  world. 
Now — but  I am  rambling  from  my  story.  I 
went  to  bed ; the  moonlight,  which  fell  bright 
into  my  room,  showed  me  distinctly  the 
panelled  door  behind  which  hung  my  silent 
acquaintance — I could  not  help  thinking  of 
him.  I tried  to  think  of  something  else,  but 
in  vain.  I shut  my  eyes,  and  began  to  forget 
myself,  when,  whether  I was  awake  or  asleep, 
or  between  both,  I cannot  tell,  but  suddenly  I 
felt  two  bony  hands  grasp  my  ancles,  and  pull 
me  down  the  bed  ; if  it  had  been  real,  it  could 
not  have  been  more  distinct.  For  some  time, 
how  long  I cannot  tell,  I almost  fainted  with 
terror,  but  when  I came  to  myself,  I began  to 
observe  how  I was  placed  ; if  what  I had  felt 
had  been  a reality,  I must  have  been  pulled 
halfway  out  of  bed,  but  I found  myself  lying 
with  my  head  on  my  pillow,  and  my  body  in 
the  same  place  and  attitude  as  when  I shut  my 
eyes  to  go  to  sleep.  At  this  moment  this  is  the 
only  proof  which  I have  that  it  was  not  a reality, 
but  a dream.” 

During  the  period  of  his  apprenticeship,  an 
event  took  place  at  Yarmouth,  highly  interest- 
ing to  young  Gooch,  and  which  was  the  means 
of  introducing  him  to  useful  connexions  in  after 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


129 


life.  Lord  Nelson  arrived  from  Copenhagen, 
with  his  victorious  fleet,  and  the  wounded  were 
placed  in  the  Naval  Hospital  at  that  place. 
u I was  at  the  Naval  Hospital,”  he  says,  in  a 
letter  written  long  afterwards,  44  on  the  morn- 
ing when  Nelson,  after  the  battle  at  Copenhagen, 
(having  sent  the  wounded  before  him,)  arrived 
at  the  roads,  and  landed  on  the  jetty.  The 
populace  soon  surrounded  him,  and  the  military 
were  drawn  up  in  the  market-place,  ready  to 
receive  him  ; but  making  his  way  through  the 
dust,  and  the  crowd,  and  the  clamour,  he  went 
straight  to  the  hospital.  I went  round  the 
wards  with  him,  and  was  much  interested  in 
observing  his  demeanour  to  the  sailors  ; he 
stopped  at  every  bed,  and  to  every  man  he 
had  something  kind  and  cheering  to  say  ; at 
length  he  stopped  opposite  a bed  on  which  a 
sailor  was  lying,  who  had  lost  his  right  arm 
close  to  the  shoulder  joint,  and  the  following 
short  dialogue  passed  between  them.  Nelson  : — 
4 Well,  Jack,  what’s  the  matter  with  you?’ 
Sailor  : — ‘Lost  my  right  arm,  your  honour.’ 
Nelson  paused,  looked  down  at  his  own  empty 
sleeve,  then  at  the  sailor,  and  said  playfully, 
4 Well,  Jack,  then  you  and  I are  spoiled  for 
fishermen — cheer  up,  my  brave  fellow  !’  and 
he  passed  briskly  on  to  the  next  bed  ; but 
these  few  words  had  a magical  effect  upon  the 
poor  fellow,  for  I saw  his  eyes  sparkle  with 
delight  as  Nelson  turned  away  and  pursued  his 
course  through  the  wards.”  Gooch  speedily 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  some  of  the 


130 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


junior  surgeons,  and,  though  but  a boy,  was  not 
unfrequently  at  the  hospital.  Mr.  Jupper,  since 
an  eminent  surgeon  in  London,  was  one  of  the 
number,  and,  being  more  advanced  in  education, 
having  attended  the  Borough  hospitals,  hap.- 
pened  to  possess  a manuscript  copy  of  sir  Astley 
Coopers  lectures.  These  he  lent  to  his  young- 
friend,  by  whom  they  were  speedily  transcribed. 
Little  did  he  then  anticipate  the  probability  of 
his  coming  in  contact,  at  no  distant  period,  with 
the  leading  practitioners  of  his  age,  and  taking 
his  place  among  them,  on  an  equal  footing. 
His  fathers  difficulties  had  been  augmented  in 
consequence  of  his  detention  in  a French  prison. 
Great  sacrifices  were,  however,  made  by  his 
mother,  and  an  aunt,  advanced  in  years,  in 
order  to  send  him  to  Edinburgh,  and  with 
scanty  means  he  arrived  there,  landing  from  a 
Leith  smack,  in  October,  1804.  At  this  time 
Gooch  was  remarkably  shy  ; it  was,  in  fact, 
his  first  flight  from  home,  everything  around 
him  was  new  and  strange,  and  he  was  known 
only  to  one  individual  in  the  university,  Mr. 
Henry  Southey,  a fellow-townsman,  who  was 
about  one  year  his  senior.  But  a few  weeks 
reconciled  him  to  his  new  situation,  and  no  one 
ever  entered  upon  his  studies  with  a more  fixed 
determination  to  profit  by  the  advantages  which 
the  place  afforded.  During  the  first  season,  he 
rarely,  if  ever,  missed  a lecture  ; he  attended 
the  lioyal  Infirmary,  and  became  a member  of 
the  Medical  and  Speculative  Societies.  In 
these  societies  he  soon  acquired  the  power  of 


ROBERT  GOOCH.  M.D. 


131 


expressing  himself  with  tolerable  facility,  and 
before  the  end  of  the  third  session,  became  even 
a formidable  debater.  lie  did  not  affect  to 
declaim,  but  was  always  a close  reasoner,  and 
usually  a most  unsparing  opponent.  In  May, 
most  of  the  students  leave  Edinburgh ; and  the 
following  summer  proved  an  eventful  one  to 
Gooch.  He  returned  to  Norfolk,  and  spent 
part  of  the  vacation  at  Norwich,  with  his 
friend  Mr.  William  Taylor,  with  whose  assist- 
ance he  began  the  study  of  German.  At  this 
time  he  became  acquainted  with  Miss  Emily 
Bolingbroke,  and  soon  formed  an  attachment 
which  became  mutual.  Highly  accomplished, 
but  sensitive  and  delicate,  she  was  one  of  those 
beings  who  shrink  from  notice,  and  can  be 
appreciated  only  by  those  who  know  them 
intimately.  To  a man  of  Gooch’s  temperament, 
disposed  to  take  a gloomy  view  of  his  own 
prospects,  an  engagement,  the  accomplishment 
of  which  was  to  depend  on  his  success,  did  not 
contribute  much  to  his  immediate  happiness  ; 
but  the  friends  of  the  young  lady  entertained 
more  confidence  in  the  probability  of  that 
success  than  himself,  and  allowed  a correspond- 
ence to  continue  between  them.  When  he 
returned  to  Edinburgh,  in  the  ensuing  autumn, 
lie  first  evinced  that  marked  disposition  to 
melancholy  which  never  afterwards  wholly  left 
him.  At  times  he  was  as  cheerful  as  any  man, 
but  the  habitual  tendency  of  his  mind  was  to 
despondency,  especially  with  respect  to  his 
future  course  in  life,  and  the  real  or  supposed 


132 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


difficulties  he  had  to  encounter.  In  the  course 
of  this  year  he  became  acquainted  with  his 
future  friend  and  patron,  sir  William  Knighton. 
Gooch  knew  well  how  to  appreciate  the  great 
sagacity  and  power  over  other  minds  which 
characterized  that  remarkable  man, and,  through 
the  whole  of  his  future  life,  he  was  accustomed 
to  apply  to  sir  William  for  advice  in  all  matters 
of  importance. 

The  summer  of  1806  was  passed  in  Norfolk, 
nearly  in  the  same  manner  as  the  former  had 
been,  in  the  society  of  Miss  Bolingbroke,  and 
the  study  of  modern  languages.  While  he  was 
at  Yarmouth,  the  French  frigate,  La  Guerriere, 
was  captured,  and  brought  into  the  roads  by  the 
Clyde,  and  the  number  of  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  both  vessels  was  so  great,  that  Gooch’s 
assistance  was  requested  by  the  medical  attend- 
ants. In  a letter  to  a friend,  he  relates  an 
anecdote,  which  not  only  evinces  his  humanity, 
but  gives  us  some  insight  into  the  secret  of  his 
future  professional  success.  A poor  sailor,  who 
had  undergone  amputation,  in  consequence  of  a 
splinter  wound  in  the  knee,  as  the  only  expe- 
dient calculated  to  save  his  life,  was  suffering 
from  mortification  spreading  extensively  from 
his  lying  long  on  the  back.  With  a great  deal 
of  care  and  contrivance  and  repeated  turning, 
when  the  posture  began  to  get  uneasy,  Gooch 
at  length  contrived  to  take  off  all  pressure  from 
the  sloughing  surfaces,  and  soon  had  the  plea- 
sure of  seeing  the  wound  become  healthy, 
florid,  and  beginning  to  heal.  But  the  time 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


133 


was  now  come  for  him  to  leave  and  deliver  up 
his  patients  to  another  attendant.  At  the  end 
of  a fortnight,  however,  he  returned  to  Yar- 
mouth, to  take  ship  for  Edinburgh,  and  walked 
down  to  the  hospital  to  see  how  Pierre,  the  poor 
Frenchman,  and  his  other  patients  were  going 
on.  “ His  eye,”  said  he,  “ happened  to  be  on  the 
door  as  I entered  the  ward ; he  immediately  caught 
sight  of  me,  and  clasping  his  hands  with  a cry  of 
joy,  turned  his  face  upon  the  pillow  and  burse 
into  tears.  . . . He  had  not  been  neglected,  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  term  amongst 
hospital  surgeons  ; he  had  had  the  ordinary 
attention  of  a naval  hospital,  but  his  situation 
required  more ; his  new  attendant,  I dare  say, 
knew  as  much  of  surgery  as  I did,  but  he  felt 
less  interest  about  him,  and  had  not  given  him 
that  thought  and  attention  that  I had.  He  had 
been  suffered  to  lie  continually  upon  his  back ; 
the  wounds  on  the  loins,  which  I had  left  clean 
and  florid,  were  covered  with  new  and  extensive 
sloughs,  and  his  constitution  had  sunk  rapidly. 
He  was  wasted  to  a skeleton,  had  become  irri- 
table and  low-spirited,  and  did  nothing  but 
complain  of  neglect,  cry  over  his  sufferings,  and 
regret  the  loss  of  my  attendance.  I am  glad 
that  I came  back  when  I did,  for  the  poor 
fellow  died  the  night  after  my  return.  The 
affair  affected  me  a good  deal;  I shall  never 
forget  it.  His  constitution  was  so  reduced  that 
he  might  possibly  have  died  under  the  most 
careful  attendance:  but  I have  often  regretted 
that  I did  not  defer  my  jourr^  in  order  to 
12  * 


134 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


see  him  fairly  through  the  dangers  of  his 
illness.” 

Gooch  finished  his  academical  career,  and 
graduated  in  1807 ; and,  after  taking  a tour  to 
the  highlands,  he  resolved  to  pass  the  winter  in 
the  study  of  anatomy  and  surgery  in  London. 
He,  therefore,  became  a pupil  of  Mr.  Astley 
Cooper,  at  the  Borough  hospitals,  and  dissected 
diligently.  Early  in  the  following  year,  he 
entered  into  partnership  with  Mr.  James,  a 
general  practitioner,  of  Croydon,  and  soon  be- 
came a favourite  in  the  families  he  attended. 
He  was  now  married  to  the  lady  to  whom  he 
had  so  long  been  engaged,  and  had  a fair 
prospect  of  success  in  his  profession.  Still  he 
was  unhappy,  and  continued  to  indulge  a 
gloomy  presentiment  as  to  the  future.  Nor,  in 
one  respect,  was  he,  in  this  instance,  mistaken. 
The  lady  of  his  choice  had  scarcely  recovered 
from  her  first  confinement,  when  decided  con- 
sumptive symptoms  made  their  appearance, 
under  which  she  lingered  for  about  fifteen 
months,  and  died  on  the  2 1st  of  January,  1811. 
The  infant  survived  its  mother  about  six 
months,  and  was  buried  in  the  same  grave  with 
her.  Dr.  Gooch  felt  this  affliction  most  severely, 
but  he  did  not  sink  under  it.  What  at  this 
time  was  the  character,  and  what  the  extent,  of 
his  religious  perceptions,  we  have  no  means  of 
correctly  ascertaining,  but  it  is  so  far  satis- 
factory to  find  that  he  sought  for  consolation 
from  a higher  source  than  any  which  this  world 
has  to  offer.  As  soon  as  he  had  recovered  his 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


135 


spirits,  he  resolved  to  enter  upon  a new  scene 
of  professional  action.  Being  now  in  better 
circumstances,  he  took  a house  in  Alderman- 
bury,  and  endeavoured  to  establish  liihiseif  as 
an  accoucheur  physician,  considering  that  to  be 
a line  of  practice  in  which  his  friends  could 
most  easily  assist  him,  which  they  did  with  the 
greatest  promptitude,  especially  Dr.  Babington 
and  sir  William  Knighton,  to  the  latter  of 
whom,  then  in  full  practice  at  the  west  end  of 
the  town,  more  than  to  any  other  individual,  he 
owed  his  early  success.  In  the  following  year, 
Dr.  Gooch  was  elected  physician  to  the  West- 
minster Lying-in  Hospital;  and,  in  a letter  to 
a friend,  written  shortly  after,  he  speaks  thus 
cheerfully  of  his  prospects:  “ You  will  be  glad 
to  hear  that  practice  is  coming  in  upon  me,  in 
a way  and  with  a rapidity  which  surprise  me; 
if  its  after  progress  is  at  all  proportionate  to  its 
commencement,  (of  which  I feel  no  doubt,)  it 
will  soon  carry  me  out  of  the  reach  of  pecuniary 
cares.”  In  the  same  year,  he  was  elected  joint 
lecturer  on  midwifery  at  St.  Bartholomew’s 
Hospital  with  Dr.  Thynne,  whose  death,  which 
occurred  shortly  afterwards,  gave  him  the  whole 
profit  of  those  lectures.  But  though  a source 
of  emolument,  they  proved  also  a source  of 
much  anxiety  to  him.  It  was  impossible  to 
write  each  lecture,  and  he  often  found  himself 
compelled  to  go  to  the  hospital  with  scanty 
notes,  and  not  fully  possessed  of  all  that  was 
known  on  the  subject.  In  one  of  his  letters, 
he  says,  “ I am  going  down  to  lecture  with  a 


136 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


palsied  mind  and  palpitating  heart.”  Such  was 
his  anxiety,  that  it  affected  his  health,  and  laid 
the  foundation  of  that  disorder  of  his  stomach, 
from  which  he  was  never  after  entirely  free. 
But  he  was  a severe  critic  of  himself — in  a few 
years  he  became  one  of  the  best  lecturers  in 
London,  and  used  to  go  into  the  class-room  with 
perfect  confidence  and  without  any  notes,  able 
to  teach  clearly  and  impressively  that  which  he 
himself  thoroughly  understood. 

In  January,  1814,  Gooch  was  again  married ; 
the  object  of  his  choice  being  a sister  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Travers.  Not  long  after  this,  he 
removed  from  Aldermanbury  to  Berners-street, 
where  he  profited  by  the  overflowings  of  the 
practice  of  sir  William  Knighton.  He  was 
introduced  by  the  same  kind  friend  to  the  mar- 
quis of  Wellesley;  and,  towards  the  close  of  the 
year,  he  paid  a professional  visit  to  the  marquis 
at  Ramsgate.  Here  he  was  taken  alarmingly 
ill;  his  stomach  became  so  irritable  as  to  reject 
all  aliment,  and  although  he  regained  strength 
enough  to  resume  his  professional  duties,  he  was 
subject  at  intervals  to  the  same  formidable  dis- 
order throughout  the  remainder  of  his  life.  In 
1820,  he  lost  his  eldest  son — an  interesting  child 
of  five  years  of  age;  no  calamity  which  he  had 
ever  experienced  affected  him  so  deeply  as  the 
death  of  this  boy.  In  a letter,  written  shortly 
after  this  event,  he  thus  expresses  himself: 
“ There  is  only  one  object  I can  talk  to  you 
about,  and  that  is  my  boy ; he  is  always  in  our 
thoughts.  Southey,  in  Roderick,  gives  the  re- 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


137 


cipe  for  grief, — religion  and  strenuous  exertion. 
Whoever  says  that  the  latter  is  chief,  says  false, 
for  the  former  affords  support  when  the  mind 
is  incapable  of  exertion,  and  is  not  only  not  the 
least,  but  the  best  of  the  two.  When  we  went 
dowrn  to  Croydon  to  deposit  my  dear  boy  in  our 
little  tenement  there,  you  will  easily  believe 
that  I approached  the  town  and  entered  the 
churchyard  with  strange  feelings:  ten  years 
back  I had  visited  this  spot  to  lay  a wife  and  a 
child  in  the  same  tomb ; since  then  I had  re- 
covered  from  my  grief,  had  formed  new  affec- 
tions, had  had  them  wounded  as  bitterly  as  the 
former,  and  was  now  approaching  the'  same 
spot  again,  on  a similar  and  as  poignant  an 
occasion.  The  scene  was  singularly  instructive ; 
it  cried  out  with  a voice,  which  I heard  to  my 
centre,  of  the  endurableness  and  curability  of 
grief — of  the  insecurity  of  everything — the  tran- 
sience of  life — the  rapid  and  inevitable  current 
with  which  we  are  all  hurrying  on:  and  it 
asked  me  how  I could  fear  to  submit  to  that 
state,  into  which  so  many  that  I dearly  loved 
had  already  passed  before  me.  . . I added 
my  beloved  boy  to  its  former  inhabitants,  and 
then  asked  myself  who  goes  next?”  Within 
ten  years,  he  was  himself  deposited  in  the  same 
spot. 

We  are  informed  by  his  biographer,  that 
Dr.  Gooch’s  thoughts  were  at  this  time  directed 
“ more  and  more  to  the  subject  of  religion” — 
that  he  u read  a good  deal  of  theology,  and  his 
letters  and  conversation  showed  how  much  his 
12* 


138 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


mind  was  occupied  with  this  subject;”  but  that, 
“ like  many  wise  and  truly  pious  men,  he  had,  at 
times,  misgivings  with  regard  to  the  efficacy  of 
his  own  faith.”  It  is  matter  of  great  regret, 
that  this  important  topic  has  been  thus  cursorily 
passed  over.  It  would  have  been  highly  in- 
teresting to  have  met  with  more  satisfactory 
evidence  of  what  this  short  notice  gives  us 
reasonable  ground  for  hoping  was  the  fact,  that 
Gooch  did  indeed  seek  and  derive  comfort  in 
his  affliction  from  the  only  source  of  satisfying 
and  abiding  consolation.  The  following  cir- 
cumstance is  added  to  the  above  very  brief 
notice  of  his  religious  character: — “ One  night, 
soon  after  the  funeral,  when  he  was  harassed 
with  doubts,  praying  fervently  for  their  removal, 
and  in  a very  excited  state  of  mind,  longing  for 
the  apparition  of  his  boy,  he  fell  asleep,  thinking 
that,  if  such  a vision  should  be  vouchsafed  him, 
he  could  never  doubt  again.  The  dream  which 
followed  is  not  the  less  striking,  because  it 
may  be  reasonably  explained  by  the  state  of  his 
mind  and  body  at  the  time.  He  thought  his 
child  appeared,  and  told  him  that,  although  his 
prayers  had  been  heard,  and  a spirit  was  allowed 
to  visit  him,  still,  that  he  would  not  be  satis- 
fied, but  would  consider  it  merely  as  a dream; 
adding  ‘ he  who  will  not  believe  Moses  and 
the  prophets,  will  not  believe,  though  one 
comes  from  the  dead.’  Here  he  awoke,  and 
afterwards  related  the  dream  to  several  of  his 
friends.” 

The  state  of  Dr.  Gooch’s  health  was  now 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D.  139 

such  that  he  was  compelled  to  restrict  himself 
in  the  number  of  his  daily  visits,  and  every 
summer  was  obliged  to  quit  London  altogether 
for  some  weeks.  In  1822,  he  visited  Paris, 
and  in  the  following  autumn,  made  a tour 
through  North  Wales.  It  was  on  his  return 
from  the  latter  excursion,  that  he  passed  a day 
at  Warwick,  in  the  company  of  Dr.  Parr, 
whom  he  had  previously  met  in  London,  of 
both  which  interviews  he  has  given  a lively 
account  in  a paper  in  Blackwood’s  Magazine, 
entitled,  u Two  Days  with  Dr.  Parr.”  When 
speaking  on  the  latter  occasion,  on  the  advan- 
tages and  disadvantages  of  the  different  pro- 
fessions, Parr  said  the  most  desirable  was 
that  of  physic,  which  was  equally  favourable 
to  a man’s  moral  sentiments  and  intellectual 
faculties. — One  of  the  party  reminded  him  of 
his  first  interview  with  Dr.  Johnson.  u I re- 
member it  well,”  said  Parr,  “ I gave  him  no 
quarter, — the  subject  of  our  dispute  was  the 
liberty  of  the  press.  Dr.  Johnson  was  very 
great ; whilst  he  was  arguing,  I observed  that 
he  stamped  ; upon  this  I stamped.  Dr.  John- 
son said,  4 Why  do ‘you  stamp,  Dr.  Parr  ?’  I 
replied,  1 Sir,  because  you  stamped,  and  I was 
resolved  not  to  give  you  the  advantage  even  of 
a stamp  in  the  argument.’  ” 

Towards  the  close  of  1824,  Gooch  took  a 
lively  interest  in  the  question  of  altering  the 
quarantine  laws,  which  was  then  agitated, 
fearing,  as  he  expresses  himself,  lest  “ a set 
of  half-educated,  wrong-headed,  medical  ad- 


140 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


venturers  should  succeed  in  persuading  the 
government  that  the  plague  was  not  contagious, 
and  that  there  was  no  need  of  any  precautions 
to  keep  it  out  of  the  country.”  He  placed  in 
Mr.  Peel’s  hands  the  evidence  he  had  collected 
on  the  subject,  and  wrote  a valuable  article  for 
the  Quarterly  Review,  on  “ the  Contagious 
Nature  of  the  Plague.”  During  the  whole  of 
this  year,  he  suffered  much  from  illness.  He 
went  to  the  continent  in  search  of  health,  in 
company  with  Mrs.  Gooch  and  his  friend,  Dr. 
Robert  Fergusson,  but  he  was  confined  to  his 
bed  three  days  at  Calais,  and  three  weeks  at 
Bruges,  and  returned  weaker  than  he  went. 
When  at  Ghent,  ill  as  he  was,  he  contrived  to 
visit  the  Beguinage  there,  of  which  he  gives 
the  following  account  in  one  of  his  letters 
“ When  we  entered,  it  was  nearly7”  dark  ; the 
only  lights  were  a few  tall  tapers  before  the 
altar,  and  as  many7  at  the  opposite  extremity  of 
the  chapel  before  the  organ  ; the  rest  of  the 
building  was  in  deep  gloom,  having  no  other 
light  than  what  it  received  from  these  few  and 
distant  tapers.  There  were  a few  people  of  the 
town  kneeling  on  straw  chairs  in  the  open 
space  before  the  altar,  but  the  rest  of  the 
chapel  was  filled-  on  each  side,  from  end  to  end, 
by  the  Beguine  nuns,  amounting  to  several 
hundreds,  all  in  their  dark  russet  gowns  and 
white  stiff  hoods  ; and  all  in  twilight  and  deep 
silence,  and  motionless,  and  the  silence  in- 
terrupted only  by  the  occasional  tinkling  of 
a bell,  or  by  a nun  starting  up  with  out- 


ROBERT  GOOCH,  M.D. 


141 


stretclied  arms,  in  the  attitude  of  the  cruci- 
fixion, in  which  she  remained  fixed  and  silent 
for  a good  many  minutes.  It  was  the  strangest 
and  most  unearthty  scene  I ever  beheld.”  The 
Beguines,  like  the  Soeurs  de  Charite , act  as 
nurses  to  the  sick  poor  in  hospitals,  but  are 
bound  by  no  permanent  vow,  and  have  the 
power  of  returning  to  the  world  when  they 
please.  It  was  a favourite  scheme  of  Gooch’s 
that  a superior  class  of  nurses  might  be 
formed  for  the  London  hospitals,  by  a religious 
association,  of  course  on  purely  Protestant 
principles.  The  letters  on  this  subject  in  the 
Appendix  to  Mr.  Southey’s  Colloquies,  were 
from  his  pen. 

On  his  return  from  Flanders,  he  transferred 
as  much  of  his  midwifery  practice  as  possible 
to  Dr.  Locock,  and  henceforth  confined  himself 
to  the  prescribing  part  of  his  profession.  Still 
he  always  found  that  he  had  more  patients  on 
his  list  than  he  could  visit.  On  the  promotion 
of  Dr.  C.  R.  Sumner  to  a bishopric,  in  April, 
182€,  he  was  appointed  principal  librarian  to 
the  king — an  office  which  delighted  him,  on 
account  of  his  fondness  for  general  literature, 
and  was  especially  honourable,  from  its  being 
the  first  instance,  we  believe,  in  which  it  was 
ever  held  by  a medical  man. 

In  the  summer  of  1829,  Dr.  Gooch  cor- 
rected the  last  sheets  of  the  most  important 
work  he  wrote — and  which  had  occupied  his 
attention  many  years — that  u On  the  Diseases 
of  Women.”  It  was  the  result  of  a very  ex- 


142 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


tensive  experience,  and  in  no  degree  disap- 
pointed the  highest  expectation  of  his  friends. 
It  is  an  interesting  fact,  that  nearly  all  his 
writings  were  composed  whilst  confined  to  his 
bed  by  sickness,  and  often,  when  too  feeble  to 
hold  his  pen,  he  would  dictate  page  by  page 
with  a mind  as  active  and  powerful  as  ever. 
His  bodily  powers  now  began  to  fail  pro- 
gressively, and  on  the  16th  of  February,  1830, 
he  breathed  his  last. 

With  regard  to  personal  appearance,  Dr. 
Gooch  was  rather  below  the  ordinary  height, 
and  always  thin  : his  dark  full  eyes  were  re- 
markably fine — the  habitual  expression  of  his 
countenance  was  made  up  of  sagacity  and 
melancholy,  though  no  features  could  exhibit 
occasionally  a more  happy  play  of  humour. 
As  a physician,  he  was  eminently  successful, 
particularly  excelling  in  the  tact  with  which 
he  seized  the  symptoms  of  obscure  diseases. 
His  manners  were  singularly  well  adapted  to  a 
sick  room,  and  the  kindness  of  his  heart  led 
him  to  sympathise  readily  with  the  feelings  of 
others,  and  rarely  failed  to  attach  his  patients 
strongly. 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D. 

William  Knighton  was  born  at  Beer  Ferris, 
in  the  county  of  Devon,  in  the  year  1776.  JTe 
was  the  grandson  of  William  Knighton,  esq.,  of 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  143 

Greenoven,  in  tlie  same  county.  His  father, 
in  consequence  of  irregular  conduct  and  an  im- 
prudent marriage,  had  been  cut  off  from  the 
family  property  ; he  died  at  the  early  age  of 
twenty-nine,  and  his  widow  afterwards  formed 
another  alliance.  The  education  of  the  subject 
of  our  memoir  was  not,  however,  neglected. 
He  was  placed  at  a respectable,  school,  and  at 
an  early  age  was  articled  to  his  uncle,  Mr. 
Bredall,  a surgeon  and  apothecary  at  Tavistock, 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  medicine.  In  his 
nineteenth  year,  he  repaired  to  London,  to  com- 
plete his  medical  education,  by  the  usual  course 
of  attendance  at  the  hospitals  and  dissecting- 
rooms.  But  previously  to  this  period,  he  had 
become  known  to  Dr.  Geach,  chief  surgeon  of 
the  Royal  Naval  Hospital  at  Plymouth,  who 
early  discovered  in  his  youthful  acquaintance 
an  unusual  degree  of  talent  and  ability,  and,  on 
his  return  to  Devonshire,  took  him  entirely 
under  his  own  protection  and  roof ; with  the 
intention,  as  his  own  words  expressed,  “ to 
model  you  as  I like,  introduce  you  into  life  and 
business,  and  make  your  talents  known.”  In 
the  year  1796,  he  procured  him  the  appoint- 
ment of  assistant  surgeon  to  the  Royal  Naval 
Hospital,  and  also  obtained  for  him  a diploma 
from  Aberdeen,  for  an  essay  on  “ putrid  fever.” 
He  had  now  the  prospect  of  being  introduced 
to  most  influential  connexions,  as  well  as  of 
laying  up  an  ample  store  of  information  from 
his  patron’s  learning  and  experience.  Of  all 
these  advantages  he  was  at  once  deprived,  in  a 


144 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


very  short  time,  by  the  sudden  death  of  Dr. 
Geach,  and  left  without  patron,  guide,  or 
money,  and  with  the  additional  embarrassment 
of  a lawsuit,  which  he  had  been  obliged  to 
undertake,  to  recover  a small  estate  to  which 
he  was  entitled  as  heir  at  law,  and  which  he 
subsequently  obtained.  It  was  now  necessary 
that  Dr.  Knighton  should  settle;  and,  at  the  end 
of  1797,  he  purchased  a small  house  at  Devon- 
port,  where  he  commenced  his  professional 
career,  which,  notwithstanding  his  age  and 
inexperience — for  he  was  then  only  twenty-one 
— was,  by  persevering  industry,  attended  with 
remarkable  success.  He  was  soon  received  by 
some  of  the  most  respectable  families  in  the 
town  and  country,  by  whom,  and  the  occasional 
naval,  military,  and  other  yisitants  to  the  place, 
his  time  was  completely  occupied.  In  the 
year  1800,  he  married  the  youngest  daughter 
of  the  late  captain  Hawker,  of  the  Royal  Navy. 

About  three  years  after  this  event,  Dr. 
Knighton  removed  to  London,  with  a fixed 
resolution  of  surmounting  all  difficulties  that 
might  lie  in  the  way  of  establishing  himself  as 
a physician  in  the  metropolis.  Here  he  met  at 
first  with  an  unexpected  embarrassment,  from 
being  unqualified  by  his  Aberdeen  diploma  to 
obtain  the  college  license.  But  nothing  daunt- 
ed, he  resolved  forthwith  to  go  to  Edinburgh, 
and  there  to  remain,  and  take  his  doctor’s 
degree  according  to  the  statutes.  A house 
which  had  been  purchased  and  furnished  in 
Argyle-street  was  disposed  of,  and  Dr.  and 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  145 

Mrs.  K.  repaired  to  Edinburgh,  where  his 
studies  were  pursued  with  the  most  unremit- 
ting zeal ; volumes  of  notes  and  remarks  were 
compiled  by  him  from  the  various  lectures  of 
the  professors  ; and  thus  was  the  theoretical 
knowledge  of  that  science  completed,  which 
had  already  been  practically  learned  by  the 
bedside  of  the  sick.  “ Few  people,  I believe,” 
he  observes,  in  a letter  written  at  this  time, 
“ who  are  determined  to  carry  any  particular 
point,  fail  in  its  accomplishment  ; and  mine  I 
shall  never  give  up  but  with  my  life.”  In 
1806,  after  completing  the  requisite  period  of 
residence  in  Edinburgh,  and  passing  his  ex- 
amination at  the  College  of  Physicians  in 
London,  he  took  a house,  previously  occupied 
by  Dr.  Halifax,  in  Hanover-square,  and  fur- 
nished it  with  that  attention  to  economy,  which 
the  uncertainty  of  professional  success,  and  the 
apprehension  in  an  honest  mind  of  incurring 
debts  without  the  means  of  liquidating  them, 
naturally  excited.  But  the  fears  of  his  rela- 
tives and  connexions  in  the  country,  by  whom 
he  was  strongly  urged  to  return  to  Devonshire, 
proved  groundless,  his  own  most  sanguine 
expectations  were  realized;  and,  through  the 
kind  patronage  and  influence  of  a limited 
number  of  persons  of  rank,  to  whom  he  had 
become  known  in  his  former  sphere  of  exertion, 
he  speedily  got  into  practice.  In  a short  time, 
he  was  obliged  to  add  a carriage  to  his  esta- 
blishment, and  had  no  longer  any  appro 
13 


146  EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 

hension  of  inability  to  meet  the  increased 
expenditure. 

In  the  year  1809,  Dr.  Knighton  had  the 
honour  of  being  chosen  as  medical  attendant 
by  the  marquis  Wellesley,  to  accompany  him 
on  his  embassy  to  Spain.  His  absence  on  this 
occasion  proved  shorter  than  he  had  antici- 
pated, and  did  not  materially  interfere  with 
his  medical  practice.  On  his  return,  he  was 
introduced  and  recommended  by  his  noble 
patron  to  the  prince  of  Wales,  was  eventually 
appointed  one  of  his  royal  highness’s  physi- 
cians, and,  in  1812,  made  a baronet.  At  this 
period,  he  had  obtained  extensive  employment, 
and  was  in  the  receipt  of  a considerable  in- 
come. In  1818,  the  prince  regent  appointed 
him  to  the  auditorship  of  the  duchy  of  Corn- 
wall, after  which  his  secession  from  medical 
avocations  was  gradual,  till  about  the  year 
1822,  when  he  altogether  relinquished  the 
hope  he  had  entertained  of  rapidly  obtaining 
an  independence  for  his  family  by  professional 
labour,  and,  yielding  to  the  gratificatior  so 
natural  to  the  human  heart,  arising  from  the 
unbounded  favour,  kindness,  and  liberality  of 
his  sovereign,  he  became  the  devoted  servant 
of  George  the  Fourth.  From  the  following 
short  note  written  by  his  majesty  in  1820,  it 
is  evident  how  much  comfort,  even  at  that 
period,  he  derived  from  having  recourse  to  his 
judgment  when  under  any  difficulty  and  em- 
barrassment. 

“ My  dear  Knighton, — Let  me  entreat  of 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON.  BART.,  M.D.  147 

you,  if  you  possibly  can,  to  call  upon  me 
to-morrow  morning,  if  your  health  will  in  any 
way  admit  of  it,  at  latest  by  eleven  o'clock.  I am 
so  overburthened,  that  I must  absolutely  see  you. 
Always  most  affectionately  yours, — G.  R. 

“ C.  H.,  Friday  night  or  rather  Saturday 
morning,  May  12-13,  1820.” 

Sir  William  had  been  in  close  attendance 
during  the  dangerous  illness  under  which  the 
prince  regent  was  suffering  at  the  time  of  the 
death  of  his  father ; and  on  the  night  when  the 
intelligence  was  brought  from  Windsor  that 
George  the  Third  had  ceased  to  live,  the  fatal 
tidings,  he  says,  were  received  by  the  prince 
with  a burst  of  grief  that  was  very  affecting. 
How  great  was  the  attachment  of  George  the 
Fourth  to  sir  William,  and  how  necessary  he 
had  become  to  his  happiness,  is  forcibly  ex- 
pressed in  a letter  written  from  Holyhead, 
when  the  king  was  on  his  way  to  Ireland,  in 
August,  1821.  After  alluding  to  the  circum- 
stances of  peculiar  trial  in  which  he  was  then 
placed,  he  adds,  “Continue,  I conjure  you, 
from  time  to  time,  and  constantly  if  you  can, 
to  let  me  hear  from  you,  be  it  only,  that  ‘ all 
is  well,’  for  even  this  is  a security  and  comfort 
to  me  that  you  cannot  imagine  ; it  is  utterly 
impossible  for  me  to  tell  you  how  uncomfort- 
able and  miserable  I always  feel  when  I have 
not  you  immediately  at  my  elbow.  You  may 
then  judge  what  I do  now  at  this  moment  feel, 
and  what  I have  gone  through  without  you 
near  me,  during  all  these  recent  perplexities 


148 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


and  difficulties.  You  are  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  warmth  of  my  feelings  towards  you, 
to  render  it  necessary  for  me  to  add  a syllable 
more  upon  that  head,  dear  and  best  of  friends, 
except  that  I am  always  most  affectionately 
yours — G.  R.” 

Sir  William  accompanied  his  majesty  in  his 
journeys  to  Hanover  in  the  year  1821,  and  to 
Scotland  in  the  year  1822.  In  the  latter  year, 
he  was  appointed  keeper  of  the  king’s  privy 
purse,  a duty  which  he  ever  endeavoured  to 
execute  with  the  unshrinking  firmness  which 
its  embarrassments  required,  and  occasionally 
so  much  in  opposition  to  the.  king’s  inclination, 
as  would  have  displeased  and  alienated  a heart 
less  affectionately  attached  to  him.  But  the 
king  consented  to  second  his  servant’s  wishes 
when  it  was  found  necessary  to  put  a stop  to 
much  unforeseen  expenditure,  and  on  one 
occasion  in  particular,  by  signing  the  following 
document  : — “ I hereby  authorize  and  direct 
sir  William  Knighton,  bart.,  keeper  of  my 
privy  purse,  to  give  notice  to  our  several 
tradesmen,  that  they  are  not  to  receive  orders 
or  to  furnish  any  articles  of  furniture,  etc.  etc. 
etc.,  or  to  incur  any  expense  whatever  from 
their  different  trades,  where  such  expense  is 
to  be  provided  for  from  my  privy  purse, 
without  receiving  a specific  order  in  writing 
for  that  purpose  from  the  said  sir  W.  K.  bart. 
And  I do  also  give  my  authority  to  the  said 
sir  W.  K.,  bart.,  and  order  and  direct  him, 
during  our  will  and  pleasure,  to  undertake  the 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  149 

entire  management  of  my  private  affairs,  with 
a view  to  the  observance  of  the  most  strict  and 
rigid  economy,  that  we  may  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  relieving  ourselves  from  certain  em- 
barrassments which  it  is  not  necessary  to 
mention  further  in  detail.  We  do  therefore 
rely  with  confidence  on  the  said  sir  Wm. 
Knighton  for  the  strict  performance  and 
fulfilment  of  all  our  wishes  on  this  head. 

“ Royal  Lodge,  Oct.  26th,  1822.  G.  R.’? 

Mr.  Dickie,  for  many  years  a highly  confi- 
dential clerk  in  the  banking-house  of  Messrs. 
Coutts  and  Co.,  and  latterly  a partner  in  that 
extensive  establishment,  and  who,  from  his 
position  in  the  banking-house,  was  well  known 
to  several  members  of  the  royal  family,  is 
stated,  when  on  his  death-bed,  to  have  expressed 
himself  as  follows  “ I thought  it  right  to 
say  to  sir  * * * * that  no  monarch,  nor  any 
man,  had  ever  such  a friend  as  sir  Wm. 
Knighton  was  to  George  the  Fourth.  He 
managed  and  guarded  his  pecuniary  concerns 
with  an  indefatigable  care,  and  such  a peculiar 
understanding,  that,  had  I not  myself  been  a 
witness,  I could  scarcely  have  credited  it. 
There  were  times  when  sir  William  thought 
that  he  was  getting  over  difficulties,  when  large 
accounts  came  in  of  which  he  was  not  aware, 
like  thunder- claps.  He  has  more  than  once, 
on  such  occasions,  in  my  presence,  most  re- 
spectfully but  firmly  remonstrated  with  his 
majesty  upon  the  impossibility  of  managing 
his  affairs  with  any  satisfaction,  or  indeed 
13* 


150 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


propriety  of  conduct,  if  such  unforeseen  expen- 
diture occurred.  Sir  William’s  words,  tone, 
and  manner,  acted  like  magic  upon  the  king. 
His  majesty,  like  a sensible  man,  seemed 
obliged  from  his  heart,  his  whole  demeanour 
showed  it  ; and  I myself,  at  such  a novel 
scene,  was  struck  with  astonishment.  From 
such  circumstances,  therefore,  the  name  of 
Knighton  is  very  dear  to  me.  I think  it  right,” 
he  added,  addressing  sir  William,  “ to  inform 
you  of  all  this ; and  I say  it  on  my  death-bed, 
and  will  repeat,  that  no  monarch  ever  had  such  a 
friend  as  George  the  Fourth  had  in  your  person.” 

The  limit  of  this  brief  sketch  will  not  allow 
us  to  enter  into  all  the  various  negotiations  in 
■which  sir  William  was  engaged  in  his  official 
capacity.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  continued, 
at  much  personal  sacrifice  of  health  and  com- 
fort, to  be  the  faithful  servant  of  his  sovereign, 
during  the  remaining  years  of  his  life,  and 
attended  him  indefatigably  during  his  last 
illness;  and  it  is  deserving  of  remark,  that, 
during  that  trying  period,  he  anxiously  em- 
braced every  opportunity  of  directing  his 
majesty’s  attention  to  the  great  subject  of 
religion. 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  written 
during  this  part  of  his  life,  relate  to  subjects 
interesting  in  themselves,  and  are  highly  cha- 
racteristic of  his  mind. 

To  his  eldest  daughter. 

u Royal  Lodge,  20tli  Jan.  1827. 

u It  may  make  you  comfortable  to  know  that 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  151 

I do  not  attend  the  funeral  of  his  late  royal 
highness  the  duke  of  York ; but  I remain  with 
his  majesty  in  the  silence  of  his  chamber. 
Two  nights  since,  the  king  sent  me  to  St. 
George’s  Chapel,  at  Windsor,  for  the  purpose  of 
descending  into  the  vault,  which  contains  the 
royal  family  who  have  died  within  these  few 
years.  One  man  preceded  me  dowrn  the  ladder 
that  leads  to  this  gloomy  abode,  whilst  another 
held  the  ladder  above ; the  first  man  carried  a 
lighted  torch.  We  then  traversed  a subterra- 
nean passage,  of  about  one  hundred  yards  in 
length,  at  the  end  of  which,  looking  to  the  east, 
was  the  coffin  of  king  George  the  Third,  ele- 
vated on  a little  block  of  marble.  On  one  side 
was  the  late  queen  Charlotte;  on  the  other,  his 
majesty’s  daughter,  the  princess  Amelia  ; next 
to  the  princess,  prince  Edward,  who  died  early ; 
and,  on  the  other  side  of  the  queen,  another 
prince,  who  died  young.  Then,  by  turning 
round,  and  looking  in  another  direction,  on  the 
right,  in  a niche,  was  the  princess  Elizabeth, 
at  whose  birth  I was  present.  In  the  next 
niche,  the  princess  Charlotte  and  her  baby, 
her  heart  in  an  urn : next  to  the  princess 
Charlotte,  the  old  duchess  of  Brunswick  ; and 
farther  on  in  the  vault,  the  duke  of  Kent. 
The  object  of  this  melancholy  and  memorable 
visit,  was  to  fix  on  a desirable  spot  to  place  the 
remains  of  the  duke  of  York,  that  his  majesty 
may  know,  through  my  affectionate  feelings  to 
fulfil  his  wishes,  that  the  duke  was  placed  in  a 
situation  to  be  as  near  the  late  king  as  possible. 


152 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


“It  is  quite  out  of  my  power  to  describe  to 
you  tlie  imposing  and  solemn  situation  in  which 
I found  myself,  in  the  dead  of  night,  with  a 
single  torch  in  my  hand,  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  with  my  late  king  and  queen,  and  their 
dead  family,  all  of  whom  I believed  had,  at 
that  moment,  a spiritual  existence.  I felt  as  if 
the  Almighty  was  present,  and  almost  imagined 
that  the  spirits  of  the  departed  were  also  before 
me.  I shall  never  forget  this  visit.  I remained 
in  the  vault  above  a quarter  of  an  hour.  The 
hour  at  which  I now  write  is  four  o’clock  ; the 
minute  guns  are  firing  ; the  remains  of  the 
duke  of  York  will  reach  Windsor  at  about 
eight.  I am  obliged  to  write  in  a great  hurry. 

“ Yours  ever,  etc., 

“ W.  K.” 

“ March  7,  1827. 

u What  you  have  been  told  relative  to 

the  Jesuits,  I am  satisfied  is  perfectly  true. 
The  state  of  the  world  is  very  unsettled  ; but 
the  ways  of  God  are  quite  inscrutable  to  our 
poor  understandings.  When  I look  at  the 
arguments  on  the  Roman  Catholic  question  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  the  wonder  that  strikes 
me  is  the  lightness  with  which  it  is  argued. 
Ridicule  or  flippancy  of  language,  to  excite  a 
vulgar  or  irreligious  laugh,  seem  to  be  con- 
sidered sufficient  for  the  most  awful  purposes.” 

“ April,  1827. 

“ My  little  drawing-room  looks  com- 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  153 

for  table  and  companionable  from  my  pictures. 
Every  little  specimen  is  a little  history  to  me, 
and  becomes  a tale  of  time  past.  Ah  ! that 
quick  passage  of  days  leads  rapidly  to  the 
grave  ! What  then  ? What  we  must  all  hope 
for ! something  better.  I have  been  reading 
to-night  St.  Paul’s  narrative,  which  I had  in 
my  hand  for  the  morning  portion  of  Scripture 
when  at  Blendworth.  I have  been  much  struck 
at  his  worldly  management  throughout  the 
whole  of  that  business  which  led  to  his  journey 
and  residence  at  Rome.  Common  sense  is 
evident  throughout ; and  that  sense  separates 
itself  in  a remarkable  manner  from  his  spiritual 
conduct.  Remark  how  admirably  he  contrives 
the  distinction  in  all  his  conduct,  words,  and 
actions  ; taking  the  world  as  it  was  for  the 
circumstances  of  the  moment,  and  the  great 
and  momentous  future  results.  This  separation 
of  conduct,  in  relation  to  the  words  used,  is 
truly  marvellous.  One  of  the  great  points  to 
be  observed  in  life  is  to  go  so  far,  and  no 
farther,  to  stop  at  the  right  moment ; in  short, 
to  be  cautious  of  errors,  and  shun  extremes.” 

To  lady  Knighton. 

“ Royal  Lodge,  5th  Dec.  1827. 

UI  made  the  king  laugh  heartily  a few 

minutes  since,  at  your  anxiety  lest  his  majesty 
and  I had  quarrelled.  You  do  not  know  the 
newspaper  tricks.  That  paragraph  was  manu- 
factured for  the  purpose  of  mischief.  All  this 
is  political. — No,  no  ; there  is  nothing  wrong 


154 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


here.  His  majesty  and  myself  were  never  on 
more  happy  terms  of  feeling.  It  is  this  know- 
ledge that  produces  public  abuse.  I hope,  with 
my  own  peculiar  intellect,  I need  not  fear  a 
change.  I have  nothing  to  apprehend  but  my 
health,  and  the  eternal  wear  and  tear  that  my 
frame  undergoes  from  my  great  exertions. 
The  king  was  very  kind  towards  you,  and  said, 

L Poor  little  soul ! I suppose  she  is  in  a fine 
fuss  !’  Kiss  my  dear  children. 

“ Ever  yours  truly, 

“ W.  K.” 

To  a Friend. 

“ Nov.  19th,  1828. 

“ I thank  you,  my  very  kind  friend,  for  your 
letter,  which  was  sensible,  entertaining,  and 
clever.  Lord  Bacon  was  a very  intelligent 
observer  of  nature,  in  every  form,  but  he 
wanted  even  the  ordinary  rules  of  the  Christian 
creed,  as  connected  with  the  moral  principles. 
You  may  suppose,  then,  what  must  have  been 
his  state  as  to  spiritual  Christianity,  which,  in 
my  opinion,  is  the  only  thing  worth  resting 
upon.  Without  this,  human  nature  is,  I be- 
lieve, very  much  upon  a level,  as  to  what  is 

called  goodness  or  character,  in  this  life 

To  speak  personally  of  myself,  little  occurrences 
or  little  things  produce  no  excitement  in  my 
mind.  Is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  when  one 
knows  certain  things  as  truisms  ? such  as,  for 
example,  that  light  travels  at  the  rate  of  one 
hundred  and  seventy  thousand  miles  per  second. 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  155 

Herschel  thinks  and  mentions  in  his  writings, 
that  the  light  of  some  distant  nebulae  would  be 
forty-eight  thousand  years  in  reaching  us ! 
After  such  contemplations,  how  can  one  go  into 
the  tattle  of  the  drawing-room  to  be  excited  ! So 
true  is  it,  as  St.  Paul  says,  4 It  is  written,  I will 
destroy  the  wisdom  of  the  wise,  and  will  bring 
to  nothing  the  understanding  of  the  prudent.’ 
This  morning  I have  to  thank  you  for  the 
inclosed,  which  I shall  be  glad  to  know  that 
you  have  received.  The  letter  is  sensible,  full 
of  feeling,  but  imprudent.  She  is  also  mis- 
taken in  her  religious  progress.  There  must 
be  no  vanity,  if  the  heart  is  to  be  fully  occupied 
under  the  influence  of  spiritual  grace.  No  ; 
the  thing  is  impossible  ; and  why  ? because  the 
Scripture  denounces  every  species  of  idolatry  : 
and  what  is  vanity,  or  the  anticipation  of 
worldly  fame,  whether  present  or  future,  but 
idolatry  ? While  we  think  we  are  advancing 
in  fame,  it  is  a deceptive  progress  we  are 
making.” 

After  the  death  of  the  king,  sir  William’s 
health  was,  for  a long  time,  in  a most  uncom- 
fortable state  ; the  slightest  emotion  produced 
violent  palpitation  of  the  heart,  and  great  ner- 
vous debility.  He  now  disposed  of  his  house 
in  town,  and  resided  chiefly  with  his  family  in 
the  country,  where  he  rendered  himself  much 
beloved  by  his  readiness  on  all  occasions  to 
give  the  benefit  of  his  medical  knowledge  to 
the  sick  poor  in  his  neighbourhood,  as  well  as 
occasionally  to  the  higher  clases,  if  requested. 


156  EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 

For  several  following  years,  his  health  became 
less  frequently  interrupted.  The  necessity  of 
frequent  visits  to  town,  relieved  that  natural 
dullness  which  the  change  from  a life  of  such 
great  bodily  and  mental  activity  to  one  of 
extreme  quiet  might  have  produced  ; and  his 
occasional  excursions  to  the  continent  were 
beneficial  to  him.  We  wrill  here  insert  a few 
more  extracts  from  his  correspondence  during 
these  absences,  including  some  specimens  of 
that  graphic  description  of  character  in  which 
sir  William  particularly  excelled. 

To  lady  Knighton. 

“ London,  Oct.  28,  1830. 

* * * “ I began  my  day  by  walking  to  Bays- 
water  to  look  after  dear  Mary’s  picture.  Lin- 
nell  gave  me  a sight  of  Raphael’s  wooden  en- 
gravings of  the  history  of  the  Bible.  He  finished 
by  saying  there  were  parts  of  these  that  con- 
stantly kept  the  mind  on  fire,  and  withdrew 
it  from  the  grovelling  contemplations  of  things 
connected  "with  the  common  course  of  art.  I 
then  proceeded  to  the  Duchy  Office,  where  I 
met  Mr.  Dickie,  and  having  settled  some  details, 
went  on  to  the  City,  and  determined  to  dine  at 
Dolly’s  chop  house,  in  St.  Paul’s  Churchyard. 
It  is  a dark  dismal  place,  and  you  pass  through 
two  alleys  to  get  to  it.  I counted  five  persons 

on  my  entrance,  one  of  whom  was . We 

recognised  each  other  by  a simple  nod  oi  the 
head,  which  seemed  to  imply  tnat  we  were  too 
important  to  be  there  except  incog.  Such  are 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  157 

the  many  varieties  of  vanity.  Vain  of  what  ? 
a lump  of  clay,  that  the  slightest  thing  turns 
into  the  most  loathsome  state,  which  every 
living  creature  save  the  worm  would  shun. 
Very  near  me  was  a plain  man  in  a carefully 
combed  wig.  His  evident  intention  was  to 
confine  his  age  to  fifty,  but  it  would  not  do  ; 
threescore  and  ten  crept  through  the  deception. 
He  directed,  on  sitting  down,  three  veal  cutlets 
to  be  brought  in  succession,  hot  and  hot,  half 
a pint  of  sherry,  and  a pint  of  porter.  All 
this  was  uttered  in  a sonorous  voice,  and  with 
a degree  of  self-consequence  that  developed 
much  of  the  character  of  the  individual.  In 
short,  it  was  evident  that  his  had  been,  in  a 
little  or  great  way,  a life  of  self  ; his  own  dear 
self  was  the  great  and  leading  object  with  him. 
From  this  place  I crossed  over  to  St.  Paul’s  ; 
it  was  nearly  dark,  but  I paid  my  two-pence 
and  was  admitted.  The  monuments  of  the 
dead  bring  to  one’s  thoughts  another  and  a 
better  world  ; but  the  question  is  important, 
when  you  inquire,  What  are  the  deeds  done  in 
the  flesh  by  these  men  ? I looked  round  and 
found  the  history  of  all  I saw  was  blood  and 
carnage — in  other  words,  war.  The  accidental 
circumstance  of  being  placed  in  a situation  to 
be  killed  by  a fellow-man,  was  the  boasted  me- 
morial of  the  perishable  marble.  When  I said 
all,  there  were  three  who  required  some  skill  to 
find,  and  who  were  exceptions  to  the  general 
rule,  Dr.  Johnson,  sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  the 
great  Ploward, — he  who  first  taught  the  world 
14 


EMINENT  3IEDICAL  MEN. 

to  separate  captivity  from  cruelty — he  who 
entered  the  loathsome  dungeon  for  the  purpose 
of  dividing  the  weight  due  to  the  commission  of 
particular  crimes.  From  St.  Paul’s,  I paid  a 

visit  to  Mr. , a man  clinging  to  the  idolatry 

of  wealth,  who  has  not,  I believe,  many 
months  to  live.” 

“ 8th  May,  1832,  Limmer’s  Hotel. 

* * * u I heard  poor  old  Rowland  Hill’s  last 
sermon,  on  Sunday  morning.  It  was  very 
affecting  when  he  used  the  painful  word, 
4 Farewell !’  Fie  reminded  all  those  who  were 
the  true  followers  of  Christ,  that  their  separation 
was  but  temporary — that  they  should  all  meet 
again  in  heaven.  The  sobs  in  the  chapel 
could  then  be  heard,  and  they  were  very  gene- 
ral. The  good  old  man  used  this  remark,  4 I 
do  think,’  said  he,  4 a young  idle  clergyman  to 
be  numbered  among  the  most  wicked  upon 
earth  ; and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I should  have 
been  ashamed  to  have  lived  so  long,  (eighty- 
eight  years,)  if  I had  not  worked  hard,  and  done 
my  utmost,  and  used  all  my  strength  in  God’s 
service.  1 am  now  in  the  valley,  but  in  all  my 
travels  I could  never  see  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tains till  I got  into  the  valley.’  I am  more  and 
more  satisfied  that  to  live  a holy  life  is  to  be 
as  much  as  you  can  in  retirement,  and  con- 
stantly to  contemplate  that  awful  change  that, 
sooner  or  later,  must  come  upon  us.” 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  159 

To  a Friend. 

* * * <l  I shall  now  tell  you  what  1 think 
concerning  the  resurrection.  The  sense  in  which 
we  are  to  believe  that  the  body  will  rise  again, 
is  sublimely  conveyed  to  us  by  the  great  apostle 
as  a mystery  1 “ This  mortal  must  put  on  im- 
mortality !”  words  as  strongly  implying  as  words 
can  do  the  mysterious  fact,  that  the  very  body 
we  now  inhabit,  and  which  constitutes,  in  con- 
junction with  the  soul,  one  man,  shall  meet 
again  in  union  with  that  Divine  principle  from 
which  it  had  been  separated  for  a time,  and 
shall  form  with  it,  the  very  same  intelligent 
and  conscious  being  as  before,  though  in  a 
purer  and  higher  state  of  existence.  Some 
men  will  say,  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and 
with  what  body  do  they  come  ? St.  Paul 
returns  a similitude  in  answer,  which  for  co- 
gency and  application  to  his  subject,  could  not 
be  surpassed  by  the  most  renowned  efforts  of 
philosophical  reasoning  ; 1 That  which  thou 
sowest  is  not  quickened,’  etc.  No  illustration 
could  more  accurately  convey  or  explain  all  we 
should  aspire  to  know  of  the  miraculous  trans- 
formation which  is  implied  in  the  notion  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  It  expresses  that 
important  point,  a certain  and  fixed  identity 
between  the  risen  body  and  the  body  dead.  It 
depicts  the  boundless  possibilities  of  superior 
excellence  in  which  the  vivified  substance  may 
surpass  its  previous  condition,  just  as  the  splen- 
dour of  the  oak  in  its  highest  glory  infinitely 
surpasses  that  of  the  parent  acorn,  or  the  very 


160  EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 

same  tree  in  its  death-like  garb  of  winter. 
* * * In  the  delineations  of  our  future  state, 
the  use  of  our  several  corporeal  senses  is  so 
distinctly  alluded  to,  that  if  these  are  not  re- 
stored at  the  resurrection,  wre  cannot  heip  at 
least  expecting  something  greatly  analogous  to 
their  exercise.  We  are  to  hear  the  voice  of 
the  archangel,  and  the  trump  of  God.  We  are 
to  see  eye  to  eye  when  the  Lord  bringeth  again 
Zion.  * * * It  is  pleasing  to  think  that  the 
soul  that  looks  through  eyes  upon  objects  that 
please  us  here,  will  look  through  the  same  iden- 
tical eyes  in  another  world,  and  will  produce 
the  same  feelings,  ‘ though  purified.’  ” 

“ June  10th,  1833. 

* * * 11  We  breakfasted  at  the  Bush  Inn, 
and  then  continued  our  journey  by  the  Milford 
mail.  We  took  up  an  intelligent  man  who  had 
been  till  lately  an  innkeeper.  He  gave  us  some 
account  of  the  Bristol  riots,  and  more  particu- 
larly of  Davis,  a man  who  had  moved  very 
respectably  in  life,  as  a waggon-office  keeper, 
and  who  was  much  beloved  by  all  who  knew 
him.  He  had  a wife,  but  no  family.  This 
person  said,  that  in  the  course  of  a very  short 
time  after  he  was  taken,  his  anxiety  and  painful 
state  of  mind  brought  upon  him  such  an  ap- 
pearance of  age,  although  not  past  the  middle 
life,  that  those  who  had  known  him  could  not 
recognise  him.  A schoolfellow  who  saw  him 
previously  to  his  execution,  found  the  change 
so  complete,  that  there  was  no  one  point  by 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  161 

which  to  identify  him.  It  is  said  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  queen  of  France,  that  in  one  night, 
during  the  perils  of  the  frightful  revolution, 
her  hair  turned  grey.  The  influence  of  the 
mind  on  the  structure  of  the  frame  is  very 
remarkable,  and  serves  to  show  the  principle 
that  God  has  given  to  us  for  purposes  so  very 
different  from  those  ordinarily  required  by  the 
natural  man  ; for  who  can  help  being  struck 
with  the  power  and  grace  of  God,  and  that 
Divine  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  when 
he  contemplates  the  lives  of  those  martyrs  who 
were  led  to  the  burning  stake  ? Ho . change 
was  observed  in  them,  in  regard  to  the  external 
man,  whilst  the  power  of  spiritual  holiness  gave 
them  strength  and  grace  to  die  unflinchingly 
in  the  cause  of  their  God  and  Redeemer.  Such 
is  the  difference  of  living  in  the  flesh,  and  dying 
unto  the  Lord.” 

“October  21st,  1833. 

“The  country  from  Geneva  to  Lyons  is 
beautiful  and  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 
We  followed  constantly  the  course  of  the  Rhone ; 
on  either  side  we  were  encompassed  by  lofty 
mountains,  and  every  now  and  then  the  rich 
arid  cultivated  ground  below  them  gave  a variety 
in  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  not  easily  imagined. 
The  night  was  fine,  the  moon  gave  us  her 
greatest  beauty.  We  passed  several  lakes,  and 
every  now  and  then  the  sound  of  the  rushing 
waters  down  the  rocks  gave  additional  delight 
to  the  mind  fond  of  the  beauties  of  nature. 
Our  company  in  the  diligence  was  good,  but 
14* 


162 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


the  French  have  an  unusual  dread  of  much  air, 
and  would  rather  almost  suffocate  themselves 
by  inhaling  again  and  again  their  own  corrupt 
atmosphere  than  admit  the  pure  air,  which  is 
so  essential  to  life,  much  more  to  health.  We 
put  up  at  the  Hotel  de  Milan,  which,  though 
not  good,  answered  our  purpose  for  the  time. 
Our  usual  plan  was  to  dine  at  the  table  d'hote 
of  the  inn.  Here  we  saw  a variety  of  charac- 
ters— the  young,  the  coxcomb,  the  unexpe- 
rienced, the  cautious,  the  selfish,  the  soldier, 
the  man  of  business,  and  the  man  of  pleasure — 
each  busy  after  his  own  manner — sensible  or 
insipid,  filthy  or  the  contrary,  pretending  or 
the  direct  opposite.  The  most  useful  seemed 
to  be  to  us  the  man  of  business,  and  one  whose 
peculiarities  interfered  the  least  with  the  moral 
observances  of  our  nature  ; he  satisfied  his 
wants  with  as  little  loss  of  time  as  possible, 
and  away  instantly  to  his  vocation.  The  mili- 
tary man,  with  his  paraphernalia  of  orders,  we 
observed,  always  conducted  his  expenditure 
with  economy,  and  with  an  indication  that  he 
expected  attention  from  the  domestics  ; when- 
ever he  sounded  his  wants,  it  was  always  in  the 
form  of  a command,  and  with  a demonstration 
of  consequence.” 

u Athenaeum,  January  5th,  1836. 

“ I write  again  to-day,  contrary  to  my  in- 
tention, for  the  purpose  of  acknowledging  your 
letter,  and  saying,  that  I shall  be  happy  to 
receive  dear  Mary  on  Thursday.  I have  just 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  163 

returned  from  hearing  old  Mr.  Wilkinson  in  the 
City.  I think  he  must  be  above  eighty — quite 
clear  and  distinct.  A beautiful  old  church, 
thronged  to  fulness.  I could  only  just  get  in 
and  stand  by  the  door.  I was  not  in  time  for 
his  text;  I think  it  was  on  regeneration.  The 
first  words  I heard  from  him  were,  1 Eemember 
that  the  day  of  death  is,  in  effect,  the  day  of 
judgment.’  He  then  said  that  there  were  three 
joyous  periods  in  the  history  of  the  believer. 
The  first  was  the  day  of  conversion,  when  the 
finger  of  God,  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  writes  on  the 
heart  the  comfortable  assurance,  1 Thy  sins  are 
forgiven  thee  by  the  redeeming  blood  of  thy 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.’  Under  such  circum- 
stances, the  next  joyous  day  is  the  day  of  our 
death,  when  all  the  miseries  our  mortal  flesh  is 
heir  to  will  terminate ; and  then  comes  the  third 
period  of  our  joy,  namely,  our  ascension  into 
heaven.  This  gentleman  has  the  most  striking 
countenance  you  ever  saw.  What  a beautiful 
picture  might  be  made  of  him,  and  of  the  mar- 
vellous variety  of  strange,  care-worn  faces,  by 
which  his  pulpit  is  surrounded!  I mean  this 
evening  to  hear  Mr.  E.  This  will  be  a good 
way  of  spending  the  evening  of  my  birth.  It 
is  a long  time  ago,  and  when  I see  what  has 
happened  during  the  last  year,  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  I may  never  see  another.” 

The  letters  of  sir  William  Knighton,  about 
this  time,  were  frequently  filled  with  accounts 
of  the  sermons  he  heard,  and  of  particular 
sentiments  in  them  which  had  arrested  his 


164 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


attention.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  those 
views  of  religion  which  he  had  gradually  em- 
braced became  much  clearer,  and  he  rested 
upon  them  with  more  cordial  acquiescence. 
Impressed  with  a deep  sense  of  his  own  un- 
worthiness, he  appeared  to  be  dying  daily  to 
the  hopes  and  consolations  of  this  world,  and 
earnest  in  seeking  those  things  which  are  above. 
He  had  been  honoured  with  the  friendship  of 
princes  and  the  favour  of  royalty.  These  high 
and  flattering  distinctions  he  gratefully  acknow- 
ledged, but  had  now  learned  to  estimate  them 
at  their  true  value,  for  he  could  contrast  them 
with  the  far  higher  honour  which  cometh  from 
God  only,  and  the  infinite  blessedness  arising 
from  communion  with  Christ,  the  King  of  kings 
and  Lord  of  lords.  He  had  investigated  the 
truths  of  Christianity  with  all  the  powers  of  a 
strong  mind,  but,  with  simple  dependence 
upon  that  scriptural  promise,  the  fulfilment  of 
which  he  experienced:  “ Ask,  and  ye  shall 
receive  ; seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ; knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  you;” — your  heavenly 
Father  will  “ give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that 
ask  him.” 

He  had  for  a long  time  suffered  under  symp- 
toms of  diseased  heart,  and  much  embarrass- 
ment in  respiration,  and  was  fully  aware  of  the 
hopeless  nature  of  his  illness.  He  said  to  a 
kind  relative  who  was  frequently  at  his  bedside, 
“ I do  not  know  what  my  medical  friends  think 
of  me ; but  they  need  not  fear  to  tell  me  their 
opinion.  I have  not  left  it  to  this  hour  to  make 


SIR  WILLIAM  KNIGHTON,  BART.,  M.D.  165 

my  peace  with  God.” — 44  When  I was  a young 
man,”  he  added,  44  I knew  God;  but  I departed 
from  him,  and  he  has  brought  me  back  to 
himself  again.”  Speaking  of  prayer,  he  said, 
4 1 pray  to  God  for  the  pardon  of  my  sins,  and 
that  he  will  give  me  his  Holy  Spirit  for  the  sake 
of  Jesus  Christ.  I pray  that  my  conversion 
may  be  a sincere  one,  and  that  all  my  thoughts 
may  be  purified  in  the  blood  of  Christ.”  A 
friend,  who  visited  him,  prayed, 44  that  if  it  were 
the  Lord’s  will,  he  might  be  raised  up  from  his 
bed  of  sickness  to  glorify  God ; but  if  not,  that 
God  would  give  him  a sense  of  sin,  and  of 
peace  and  joy  in  his  Saviour,  and  that,  at  last, 
he  would  receive  his  spirit  to  himself.”  He 
said,  44  That  is  my  mind  and  desire  exactly.” 
Prayer  and  meditation  on  the  expiatory 
sacrifice  and  justifying  righteousness  of  Christ 
seemed  to  alleviate  his  sufferings ; in  speaking 
of  which,  on  one  occasion,  to  his  physician, 
he  observed,  44  See  what  sin  has  brought  into 
the  world  ! ” 

He  expressed  a firm  conviction  that  Christ 
was  sustaining  him,  and  requested,  even  on  the 
night  preceding  his  death,  that  his  family 
might  be  assembled  as  usual  to  unite  with  him 
in  family  prayer,  and  in  seeking  that  Divine 
support  which  his  circumstances  required.  On 
this  last  occasion,  he  took  an  affectionate  and 
solemn  farewell  of  them,  and  soon  after  sank 
into  a tranquil  sleep,  which,  at  about  half- past 
two  on  the  following  morning,  was  exchanged, 
without  the  slightest  apparent  suffering,  for  the 


166 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


sleep  of  death,  his  spirit  having  fled  to  God  his 
Saviour.  Sir  William  died  on  the  11th  of 
October,  1836. 


JAMES  HOPE,  MD. 

Dr.  Hope  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Hope,  esq.,  of 
Prestbury  Hall,  Cheshire.  He  was  born  Feb. 
23,  1801,  and  was  the  tenth  child  of  a family 
of  twelve.  It  is  remarkable  that  he  felt  in 
early  life  an  apparently  almost  invincible 
aversion  to  that  profession  in  which,  at  a 
comparatively  early  period,  he  rapidly  attained 
such  distinction,  and  for  which  his  naturally 
close  and  reflecting  intellectual  habits  so  well 
qualified  him.  It  was  his  father’s  wish  that 
he  should  be  a merchant ; his  own  to  attain 
eminence  at  the  bar.  At  length,  after  a period 
of  much  uncertainty,  he  yielded  to  the  per- 
suasion of  a leading  physician  at  Manchester, 
to  make  trial  of  the  practice  of  physic,  upon 
one  condition  only,  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  practise  in  London — a wish  prompted  by  a 
secret  consciousness  of  his  talents,  and  by  that 
proud  ambition  which,  till  overruled  by  higher 
and  better  principles,  seems  to  have  been  the 
master-spring  of  all  his  conduct,  leading  him 
to  scorn  success  in  every  field  except  where  he 
should  have  to  compete  with  talent  of  the 
highest  order. 

He  commenced  his  medical  studies  at  Edin- 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


167 


burgh  in  the  autumn  of  1820.  From  the 
extreme  aversion  he  felt  for  practical  anatomy, 
his  first  year  was  one  of  disgust  and  unhappi- 
ness. Still  he  determined  to  persevere.  Having 
now  made  up  his  mind  that  the  medical 
profession  was  the  sphere  in  which  all  his 
ambitious  dreams  were  to  be  realized,  he  relied 
on  the  power  of  habit  to  overcome  his  disgust. 
But  he  dissected  in  gloves  and  with  forceps, 
so  as  never  to  touch  the  body ; and  so  strongly 
rooted  were  his  feelings,  that  it  took  two  years 
to  overcome  them  in  any  tolerable  degree,  and 
they  continued  to  affect  him  slightly,  even 
six  or  seven  }^ears  afterwards.  Dr.  Baillie 
was  at  that  time  at  the  head  of  the  profession 
in  London,  and  he  was  the  model  which  young 
Hope  proposed  for  his  own  imitation.  He  soon 
discovered  that  that  celebrated  physician  owed 
much  of  his  eminence  and  success  to  his 
knowledge  of  morbid  anatomy,  and  therefore 
at  once  determined  to  concentrate  all  his 
powers  on  this  most  essential,  though  least 
agreeable  part  of  his  studies,  and  he  speedily 
planned  a work  on  the  morbid  anatomy  of  the 
whole  body,  illustrated  by  engravings.  At 
that  time  there  was  no  similar  work  in  exist- 
ence. Before  leaving  Edinburgh,  Dr.  Hope 
successively  filled  the  offices  of  house-surgeon 
and  house-physician  to  the  infirmary,  and  was 
one  of  the  presidents  of  the  Medical  Society. 
The  two  years  he  spent  in  the  Edinburgh 
Infirmary,  he  has  been  often  heard  to  saj', 
were  the  most  valuable  of  his  life — he  literally 


168 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


lived  at  the  bed-side  of  his  patients,  and  the 
sphere  for  observation  was  nearly  unlimited. 
He  graduated  on  the  1st  of  August,  1825.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  following  year,  Dr. 
Hope  went  to  London  for  the  purpose  of  study- 
ing surgery,  for  although  he  restricted  himself 
exclusively  to  the  practice  of  medicine,  he 
determined  from  the  first  to  study  the  two 
branches  equally,  and  was  accustomed  to 
observe  that  his  knowledge  of  surgery  was 
ever  afterwards  of  the  greatest  use  to  him, 
and  that  it  gave  him  a confidence  which  he 
could  never  otherwise  have  enjoyed.  He 
therefore  proceeded  so  far  as  to  pass  his 
examination  before  the  College  of  Surgeons. 
Mr.  Cline  was  his  only  examiner,  and  he  soon 
dismissed  him  with  the  remark,  “ You  know 
your  profession,  Sir;  we  need  not  detain  you.” 
The  next  year  was  spent  at  Paris,  and  it 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  laborious  of  his 
life.  A grand  difficulty  confronted  him  in 
the  outset.  Although  he  had  a good  knowledge 
of  French  and  Italian,  as  far  as  mere  reading 
went,  he  found  it  by  no  means  so  easy  a thing 
as  he  imagined,  to  profit  by  the  lessons  of 
professors,  or  to  converse  with  the  natives  of 
the  country.  Of  this  he  soon  met  with  a 
humiliating  proof.  He  went  to  engage  apart- 
ments at  a private  hotel,  but  after  a panto- 
mimic performance  of  some  twenty  minutes 
between  himself  and  the  landlady,  it  was  found 
that  neither  could,  in  the  slightest  degree, 
understand  the  other  ; and  after  laughter  and 


169 


ja:.ies  hope,  m.d. 

reciprocal  bows,  he  retired  in  despair.  He 
now  determined  to  devote  twelve  hours  a day 
to  the  mere  practice  of  speaking  French.  He 
engaged  a master  and  made  him  go  through 
the  drudgery  of  reading  three  words  at  a time, 
while  he  mimicked  them  as  closely  as  he  could. 
He  exercised  himself  by  means  of  Wanostrocht’ s 
Grammar  with  a key  to  it.  He  went  to  dine 
daily  at  a small  and  crowded  restaurant,  fre- 
quented by  the  garde-du- corps,  where  the 
company  was  so  closely  packed,  that  he  could 
not  avoid  overhearing  the  conversation  of  two 
or  three  contiguous  tables.  In  this  way  his  ear 
got  familiarized  with  all  the  sounds  of  the 
French  language,  and  having  a fancy  for  the 
rooms  of  the  private  hotel,  to  which  he  had 
originally  gone,  he  again  waited  on  the  land- 
lady. On  entering,  he  addressed  her  in  fluent 
French,  explained  his  wishes,  etc.  The  land- 
lady, meanwhile,  with  uplifted  arms,  and  an  air 
of  utter  amazement,  exclaimed,  “ Voila,  un 
miracle /”  “You  cannot  be  the  same  gentle- 
man who  called  here  a month  ago,  and  could 
not  speak  a single  word  of  French!”  “ The 
same  notwithstanding.”  The  rooms  were  then 
duly  taken,  and  he  continued  to  occupy  them 
during  his  residence  in  Paris.  He  now  began 
his  attendance  at  the  hospitals  at  the  early 
hour  of  live  in  the  morning,  visiting  the  most 
important,  but  settling  at  La  Charite,  where 
M.  Chomel  was  professor  of  clinical  medicine. 
Chomel  soon  singled  out  the  diligent  English- 
man, and  proposed  to  make  him  one  of  his 
15 


170 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


clinical  clerks  — an  offer  which  was  gladly 
accepted. 

From  his  earliest  childhood  Dr.  Hope  had 
manifested  an  unusual  facility  in  the  use  of 
the  pencil  and  the  brush.  During  his  resi- 
dence in  Edinburgh  he  began  to  carry  into 
execution  his  design,  already  alluded  to,  of  a 
work  on  morbid  anatomy  embellished  with 
plates,  and  he  had  now  ample  opportunities  of 
prosecuting  such  a work.  From  specimens  of 
morbid  anatomy,  procured  from  various 
sources,  he  compelled  himself  to  make  three  or 
four  drawings  a week  ; one  of  the  most  irksome 
tasks,  he  was  accustomed  to  say,  that  he  ever 
performed.  His  repugnance  to  anatomy  was 
not  totally  subdued,  and  it  was  only  by  the 
strongest  mental  effort  that  he  was  able  to 
proceed.  Notwithstanding,  he  thus  occupied 
himself  five  hours  daily.  On  the  6th  of 
June,  1827,  Dr.  Hope  quitted  Paris,  and  in 
company  with  a friend,  took  a delightful  tour 
through  Switzerland  and  Italy,  making  a stay 
of  three  weeks  at  Venice,  in  the  family  of  the 
late  estimable  British  consul,  Mr.  Money.  His 
remarks  on  this  family,  in  a letter  to  an  inti- 
mate friend,  considered  in  connexion  with  the 
subsequent  change  in  his  religious  views,  is 
worthy  of  mention.  “ The  extreme  kindness 
of  this  amiable  and  estimable  family  has 
almost  domesticated  us  with  them.  The 
prominent  feature  in  the  character  of  the 
family  is  an  ardent  and  sincere  piety,  and  it  is 
a most  impressive  lesson  to  see  how  happy 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


171 


they  are  under  the  influence  of  such  feelings. 
Whatever  the  world  may  say,  my  dear  George, 
it  is  a clear  case  to  me  that  the  saints  have 
the  laugh  on  their  side.  If  wishing  would 
add  me  to  their  number,  I would  get  enrolled 
to-morrow.” 

Preparatory  to  settling  in  his  profession, 
Dr.  Hope  spent  some  months  in  visiting  his 
family  and  friends  in  England  and  Scotland. 
His  father  had  now  nearly  attained  the  1 
eightieth  year  of  his  age.  A series  of  afflic- 
tions had  bowed  down  his  naturally  high 
spirit,  and  been  the  means  of  leading  him  to 
seek  u that  peace  which  the  world  cannot 
give.”  Having  been  himself  blessed  through 
life  with  excellent  health,  which  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  attributing  to  his  having  “ always 
kept  out  of  the  doctor’s  hands,”  it  so  happened 
that  he  had  a supreme  contempt  of  medicine 
and  of  medical  men.  Being  proud,  however, 
of  his  son,  he  hoped  he  would  prove  an  ex- 
ception to  the  general  rule,  and  to  this  end 
did  not  fail  to  recommend  a book  of  no 
ordinary  quack  receipts,  which  was  received 
with  all  deference.  But,  what  was  much  better, 
he  promised  to  give  him  a few  words  of  good 
advice.  This  promise  was  often  claimed,  but 
never  fulfilled,  till  the  day  before  his  departure, 
when  the  old  gentleman  invited  him  to  take  a 
walk  in  the  neighbouring  park,  and  suddenly 
stopping,  he  delivered  himself  to  the  following 
effect.  “ Now,  James,  I shall  give  you  the 
advice  that  I promised,  and  if  you  follow  it, 


172 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


you  will  be  sure  to  succeed  in  your  profession. 
First : Never  keep  a patient  ill  longer  than  you 
can  possibly  help.  Secondly:  Never  take  a 
fee  to  which  you  do  not  feel  yourself  to  be 
justly  entitled.  And,  thirdly:  Always  praij 
for  your  patients.”  A short  time  before  his 
death,  Dr.  Hope  said  that  these  maxims  had 
been  the  rule  of  his  conduct,  and  that  he  could 
testify  to  their  success. 

Fully  aware  of  what  was  required  to  attain 
what  he  considered  the  sole  object  worthy  of 
his  ambition,  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  pro- 
fession in  London,  he  was  now  resolved  not  to 
shrink  from  the  ordeal  through  which  he  had 
to  pass.  He  turned  a deaf  ear  to  various 
solicitations  that  were  made  him  to  settle  in 
other  places  where  he  had  connexions,  de- 
termining either  to  be  nothing  or  to  be  the 
first  physician  in  the  first  metropolis  in  the 
world.  He  lay  under  two  disadvantages, 
which  would  alone  have  been  sufficient  to 
deter  any  one  of  less  determined  energy  than 
himself.  Fie  had  not  taken  his  degree  at  an 
English  university,  and  was,  therefore,  in- 
eligible to  a fellowship  of  the  College  of  Phy- 
sicians— a circumstance  which  was  a serious 
obstacle  to  his  obtaining  those  appointments  to 
which  he  aspired : and  he  had  no  private 
connexion.  The  sole  advantages  which  he 
possessed  were  his  natural  powers  of  mind 
and  his  superior  education.  To  these  alone 
he  could  look,  under  providence,  for  success, 
but  they  proved  amply  sufficient.  He  had 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


173 


formed,  however,  it  appears,  much  too  favour- 
able an  estimate  of  his  profession,  and  believed 
that  the  wealth  which  rewarded  those  who 
attained  eminence  in  it,  was  both  greater  and 
more  easily  acquired  than  he  afterwards 
found  it  to  be.  On  arriving  in  London, 
Dr.  Hope  was  led  into  the  belief  that  the  first 
twenty  physicians  in  the  metropolis  divided 
•about  £80,000  annually  between  them,  and 
that  a successful  physician  might  hope  to  be 
established  in  good  practice  in  five  years.  To 
be  one  of  so  large  a number  as  twenty  seemed 
no  difficult  task,  and,  therefore,  he  ignorantly 
hoped  that,  if  he  succeeded  at  all,  he  should 
be  receiving  £4000  per  annum.  But  he  soon 
found  that,  notwithstanding  the  extraordinary 
reputation  which,  in  a very  short  period,  he 
acquired,  his  practice  made  very  tardy  ap- 
proaches indeed  towards  anything  like  this 
amount.  Often  did  he  try  to  discover  wherein 
lay  his  fault,  (for  such  he  thought  it  must  be,) 
until  he  was  relieved  by  the  observations  of 
two  of  the  first  physicians  in  London.  Dr. 
Chambers  told  him  that  it  was  absolutely 
impossible  for  any  man  who  did  not  keep  a 
carriage  to  find  time  to  obtain  more  than  <£500 
per  annum  at  the  very  most.  Sir  H.  Halford, 
while  congratulating  him  on  being  of  the 
number  of  the  successful  few  of  his  profession, 
told  him  that  if  he  made  <£1000  per  annum 
by  the  time  he  was  forty,  he  might  feel  certain 
of  attaining  the  first  eminence  that  the  pro- 
fession could  offer.  Dr.  Hope’s  career  ter- 
15* 


174 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


minated  at  this  age,  and  he  was  then  receiving 
more  than  four  times  as  much  as  sir  Henry 
had  led  him  to  expect.  But  he  did  not  con- 
sider himself  as  a fair  criterion  of  professional 
success,  as  he  was  universally  considered  to 
have  attained  very  early  eminence,  and  his 
own  observation  led  him  to  believe  that  this 
opinion  was  not  unfounded. 

Dr.  Hope  had  long  assigned  to  himself  the 
execution  of  two  works — “ A Treatise  on 
Diseases  of  the  Heart,”  and  that  already  men- 
tioned, on  “ Morbid  Anatomy,  illustrated  by 
plates;”  and,  for  the  completion  of  them,  he 
allotted  seven  years.  The  materials  for  the 
latter  work  were  nearly  prepared,  and  the  only 
difficulty  he  had  to  encounter  in  its  publication 
was  the  enormous  expense  of  the  engravings. 
But  the  subject  of  “Diseases  of  the  Heart” 
was  then  not  very  well  understood.  lie  in- 
tended to  introduce  a good  deal  of  original 
matter;  and  although  he  had  bestowed  much 
thought  upon  it,  from  the  period  of  his  medical 
studies  at  Edinburgh,  there  were  many  points 
on  which  his  judgment  was  not  fully  formed. 
It  appeared  essential  that  he  should  continue 
his  studies  at  some  large  hospital,  and  he 
selected  St.  George’s  as  the  one  to  which  his 
ambition  prompted  him  to  hope  he  should  one 
day  be  physician.  Here  he  soon  became  con- 
spicuous for  his  regular  attendance  and  un- 
varying application.  Never  was  he  to  be  seen 
without  his  stethoscope,  his  book  for  taking 
notes  of  cases,  and  a small  ink  bottle  attached 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


175 


to  bis  button.  At  that  time  there  was  much 
prejudice  in  England,  and  especially  at 
St.  George’s,  against  “ auscultation ,”  (the  use  of 
the  stethoscope,)  in  the  examination  of  diseases 
of  the  chest.  This  Dr.  Hope  determined  to 
remove,  and  he  adopted  the  most  judicious 
course,  that,  namely,  of  leaving  facts  to  speak 
for  themselves.  He  took  the  most  minute 
notes  of  them  all,  wrote  down  the  conclusions 
to  which  he  was  led  in  as  great  detail  as  pos- 
sible, and,  before  proceeding  to  a post  mortem 
examination,  publicly  placed  his  book  on  the 
table  that  it  might  be  read  by  every  one. 
He  was  invariably  correct.  Attention  was 
soon  drawn  to  him.  His  accuracy  silenced 
every  objection,  and  all  intelligent  and  candid 
men  became  convinced  of  the  utility  of  the 
stethoscope.  In  connexion  with  this  subject, 
Dr.  Hope  entered  upon  a series  of  experiments 
relative  to  the  various  sounds  of  the  heart  in 
a healthy  and  morbid  condition,  and  satisfied 
himself  upon  so  many  points  that  had  remained 
unexplored,  that  he  now  felt  justified  in  pre- 
senting his  discoveries  to  the  public.  He  ac- 
cordingly set  about  his  projected  work,  and 
wrote  with  such  diligence  that  he  completed  it 
in  one  year,  though  it  was  an  octavo  volume 
of  about  six  hundred  pages.  Being  favoured 
with  a good  constitution,  it  had  long  been 
his  custom  to  work,  with  little  intermission, 
from  seven  in  the  morning  till  twelve  at 
night.  In  consequence,  his  name  is  to  be  added 
to  the  list  of  victims  who  have  ruined  even 


176 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


robust  health,  by  over- tasking  their  powers  of 
body  and  mind,  till  they  have  practically  found, 
in  the  emphatic  language  of  one  of  the  most 
learned  and  accomplished  of  the  human  race, 
that  “ this  also  is  vanity.”  Once  thoroughly 
engaged  in  any  work  of  interest,  and  not 
feeling  at  the  time  any  extraordinary  fatigue, 
he  seemed  not  to  know  where  to  stop.  When 
writing  this  book,  he  frequently  sat  up  half 
the  night.  When  completing  it,  he  often  rose 
at  three  in  the  morning.  On  one  occasion,  he 
rose  at  three,  wrote  without  cessation  till  five 
the  following  morning,  then  went  to  bed,  and 
at  nine  o’clock  Mrs.  Hope,  to  whom  he  had 
been  married  a few  months  before,  was  at  his 
bed-side  writing  to  his  dictation  while  he 
breakfasted.  The  work  met  with  a most 
favourable  reception.  He  now  directed  his 
attention  to  publishing  the  “ Morbid  Anatomy.” 
In  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1832,  he  per- 
suaded Messrs.  Whittaker  and  Co.  to  under- 
take it  on  terms  which  experience  had  taught 
him  to  consider  advantageous.  These  were, 
that  he  was  to  provide  all  the  drawings  and 
lithography,  and  they  were  to  be  at  the  expense 
of  the  printing  and  the  colouring  of  the  plates. 
After  having  paid  all  their  own  expenses, 
Messrs.  Whittaker  agreed  to  divide  the  profits 
with  him.  After  a lapse  of  three  years 
Dr.  Hope  received  between  £00  and  £10  for 
his  share,  a sum  which  would  not  have  re- 
munerated him  for  the  expense  of  the  litho- 
graphy, if  he  had  been  compelled  to  employ  a 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


177 


regular  artist,  but  much,  more  than  was 
mutually  anticipated.  No  other  respectable 
bookseller  would  hear  of  the  publication, 
except  on  the  stipulation  of  Dr.  Hope’s  making 
himself  responsible  for  the  whole  expense. 
This  work  met  with  a reception  no  less  favour- 
able than  that  on  the  “ Heart.” 

The  ruling  principle  in  the  mind  of  Dr. 
Hope,  which  had  led  him  to  use  all  this  dili- 
gence and  unwearying  perseverance,  to  practise 
remarkable  self-denial,  and  to  control  his 
natural  tastes  and  feelings,  was,  as  .already 
hinted,  what,  in  the  phraseology  of  the  world, 
would  be  called  a laudable  and  truly  noble 
ambition  ; but  no  feeling,  it  has  been  justly 
observed,  which  has  self  for  its  ultimate  object, 
or  which  extends  only  to  the  brief  space  of 
this  life,  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  revela- 
tion, can  be  denominated  either  laudable  or 
noble.  It  was  Dr.  Hope’s  happiness  that  this 
principle  was,  at  first,  almost  imperceptibly, 
but  gradually  and  certainly  superseded,  by  a far 
higher  and  better  one.  He  did  not  then  leave 
the  sphere  in  which  Providence  had  placed  him, 
but  it  henceforth  became  the  first  object  of 
his  life  to  glorify  God  by  the  use  of  every  talent 
committed  to  his  charge. 

It  vras  in  Paris,  182G-7,  that  he  was  first 
led  to  hear  evangelical  preaching,  being  induced 
by  his  friend  Dr.  Nairne  to  attend  at  the  chapel 
of  the  rev.  Lewis  Way,  with  whose  sermons 
he  was  much  interested.  His  judgment,  now 
first  exercised  on  this  subject,  and  aided  by 


178 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  of  truth,  made  him 
perceive  that,  if  religion  were  anything,  it  must 
be  everything.  His  progress  was  slow.  He 
did  not  say  much  on  the  subject,  for  with  the 
humility  natural  to  him,  he  feared,  by  his  un- 
worthy conduct,  to  do  injury  to  the  pure  religion 
which  he  professed.  But  the  result  was  that 
religion  gained  a steady  ascendency  over  him, 
and  his  conduct  answered  to  the  scriptural 
definition  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  in  the 
comparison  of  it  to  a little  leaven  which  leaven- 
eth  the  whole  lump.  A few  days  before  his 
death,  when  referring  to  this  early  period,  he 
spoke  of  the  “ craving”  which  he  had  then  felt, 
and  which  never  left  him,  “to  be  permitted  to 
be  Christ’s  soldier  militant.”  An  observation 
which  he  made  to  Mrs.  Hope,  very  soon  after 
their  marriage,  gives  a clue  to  what  was  his 
mode  of  governing  his  feelings.  Mrs.  Hope 
was  speaking  of  the  difficulty  of  evangelical 
religion,  because  she  believed  that  it  required 
the  feelings  to  be  constantly  worked  up  to 
love  God.  “Do  not  trouble  yourself  about 
that  matter,”  answered  he  ; “do  not  think 
whether  you  love  him  or  not,  but  only  endea- 
vour to  keep  your  thoughts  fixed  on  the  in- 
dividual and  collective  blessings  which  he  has 
bestowed  on  you,  and  then  you  will  not  be  able 
to  do  otherwise  than  love  him.”  On  Dr. 
Hope’s  first  arrival  in  town,  he  had  been  intro- 
duced to  Dr.  Burder,  the  son  of  the  pious  and 
well-known  author  of  “ Village  Sermons.”  A 
similarity  in  mind  and  character  drew  these 


JAMES  HOPE,  31. D. 


179 


two  excellent  men  together,  and  when  they 
discovered  in  each  other  a unison  of  religious 
opinion,  these  feelings  kindled  into  warm  affec- 
tion. In  death  they  were  not  long  divided. 
With  reference  to  the  early  period  of  their  ac- 
quaintance, Dr.  Burder  observes,  “ Some  years 
ago,  before  I was  aware  of  Dr.  Hope’s  religious 
principles,  I had  sometimes  said  to  Mrs.  Bur- 
der, after  observing  him  narrowly,  4 Well,  if 
Dr.  Hope  is  not  a pious  man,  he  is  the  most 
perfect  man  without  religion  that  I ever  met 
with.’  But  the  more  I knew  of  him,  the  more 
anxious  was  I to  discover  whether  any  princi- 
ples short  of  those  which  teach  repentance 
towards  God,  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  an  unreserved  consecration  of  heart  and 
life  to  his  service,  could  have  yielded  such 
transparency  of  conduct,  such  humanity,  dis- 
interestedness, humility,  guileless  simplicity, 
and  undeviating  integrity,  as  I observed  in  him. 
At  length  I learned  that  he  lived  ‘ as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible.’  ” Some  very  valuable 
letters  from  Dr.  Burder  to  Dr.  Hope,  entitled 
“ Letters  from  a Senior  to  a Junior  Physician 
on  promoting  the  religious  welfare  of  his 
Patients,”  were  first  published  in  a periodical 
work,  and  have  since  been  appended  to  the 
interesting  memoir  of  Dr.  Hope,  by  his  widow, 
from  which  we  have  drawrn  largely  in  the  pre- 
sent sketch. 

It  should  be  mentioned  that,  not  very  long 
after  Dr.  Hope  had  settled  in  London,  he 
obtained  the  appointment  of  physician  to  the 


180 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


Marylebone  Infirmary,  which  he  retained  till 
November,  1834.  In  order  to  lighten  the 
duties  of  the  physicians  of  St.  George’s,  it  was 
at  that  time  proposed  to  create  a new  office, 
that  of  assistant  physician,  and,  after  an  arduous 
struggle,  Dr.  Hope  was  elected.  On  this  occa- 
sion, he  gave  a decided  proof  of  the  strength  of 
his  religious  principles.  After  having  canvassed 
for  several  days  with  little  prospect  of  success, 
a party  of  very  influential  medical  governors 
sent  to  offer  him  their  support.  The  commu- 
nication was  made  at  ten  o’clock  on  Saturday 
night,  these  gentlemen  stipulating  that  he 
should  canvass  most  actively  under  their 
guidance,  and  they  proceeded  to  point  out  his 
work  for  the  following  day,  Sunday.  To  observe 
the  sabbath  was  a principle  from  which  he 
could  not  swerve.  He  preferred  risking  the 
offered  support  to  offending  his  God.  He 
urged  that,  without  the  Divine  blessing,  his 
election  could  not  prosper,  and  that  he  could 
not  expect  that  blessing  while  acting  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  Divine  commands.  It  was  in  vain 
that  his  new  friends  argued,  entreated,  and 
even  threatened  to  withdraw  their  support. 
Dr.  Hope  was  inflexible,  and  they  finally  yielded 
the  point. 

In  the  year  1839,  Dr.  Chambers  resigned 
the  office  of  physician  to  St.  George’s.  Dr. 
Hope  had  now  discharged  the  very  laborious 
duties  of  assistant  physician  for  above  four 
years.  He  had  likewise  succeeded  Dr.  Marshall 
Hall  as  lecturer  on  the  practice  of  physic  at  the 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D.  181 

Aldersgate-street  school.  Under  the  pressure 
of  these  and  his  other  engagements,  his  health 
had  seriously  given  way.  On  these  accounts, 
the  comparatively  easy  post  of  physician  to  the 
hospital  was  one  of  no  small  importance  to 
him.  As  already  hinted,  it  had  been  the 
object  of  his  ambition  from  the  first  ; and, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  the  established  custom  at 
other  hospitals,  that  the  assistant  physician 
should,  as  a matter  of  course,  succeed  to  the 
higher  post,  on  the  occurrence  of  a vacancy,  he 
expected  to  be  appointed  without  any  oppo- 
sition, on  this  first  vacancy  which  had  occurred 
since  the  creation  of  his  present  office..  But  in 
this  he  was  disappointed.  He  found  that  Dr. 
Williams  was  a candidate,  not  for  the  assistant' 
physicianship,.  to  be  vacated  by  himself,  but 
for  the  office  of  physician  ; and  he  received  a 
communication  from  Dr.  Seymour,  to  the 
effect  that  the  medical  committee  had  come  to 
a resolution  not  to  give  their  collective  support 
to  any  candidate  in  particular.  Nothing  could 
exceed  Dr.  Hope’s  astonishment  at  this  unex- 
pected turn  of  affairs.  He  immediately  imagined 
that  some  accusation  was  about  to  be  brought 
against  him  before  the  board  of  governors, 
which,  even  if  refuted,  might  leave  a stain  upon 
his  reputation.  He  saw  that  to  Dr.  Williams  a 
defeat  would  be  merely  the  loss  of  an  election 
to  himself  he  conceived  it  would  be  the  loss  of 
character,  of  fortune,  and  of  fame — of  all.  that 
he  had  worked  so  hard  to  attain.  The  shock 
was  too  much  for  his  already  enfeebled  frame. 

16 


182 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


He  was  attacked  with  a spitting  of  blood,  and 
while  his  family  sat  up  through  the  night, 
occupied  with  preparations  for  the  election,  he 
himself  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed.  Every  ima- 
ginable exertion  was,  however,  made  by  his 
friends  and  connexions,  both  in  the  profession 
and  out  of  it.  The  students  crowded  to  his 
house,  and  intreated,  if  they  had  not  influence  to 
canvass,  they  might  write,  transcribe,  seal  letters, 
act  as  clerks,  etc.  In  five  days,  three  thousand 
letters  left  the  house,  besides  those  sent  privately 
by  friends.  On  the  26th  of  June,  Dr.  Wil- 
liams retired  from  the  contest,  and  on  the  5th 
of  July  Dr.  Hope  was  elected  without  opposi- 
tion. He  reached  the  original  goal  of  his  am- 
bition. He  attained  the  post  of  honour  upon 
which,  as  a Christian  man,  his  mind  had 
perhaps  been  far  too  inordinately  set  ; his 
friends  congratulated  him  at  the  result — but 
what  was  the  price  he  had  paid  ? it  cost 
him  no  less  than  life  ! Well  may  we  repeat 
the  often  iterated  apothegm  of  “ the  preacher,” 
“‘This  also  was  vanity  and  a sore  evil.” 
The  spitting  of  blood  with  which  he  had  been 
attacked,  the  agitation  and  excitement  of 
the  ensuing  week,  the  fatigue  of  the  election, 
which  caused  him  to  work  almost  without 
cessation  for  five  days  and  nights,  were 
what  he  never  could  recover.  From  this 
time,  he  dated  the  final  breaking  up  of  his 
health,  which  thenceforth  progressively  and 
rapidly  declined. 

It  now  only  remains  to  take  a glance  at  the 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D.  183 

state  of  Dr.  Hope’s  mind  during  the  remaining 
months  of  sicknevss  and  decay. 

It  was  a remarkable  circumstance  in  liis 
moral  history,  that  it  was  very  much  through 
the  instrumentality  of  his  reasoning  powers 
that  his  heart  became  affected  by  religious 
subjects.  He  was  slow  in  forming  a conclusion 
on  any  subject,  nor  was  ever  disposed  to  do  so 
till  he  had  fathomed  depths,  and  probably  un- 
ravelled many  intricacies,  which,  to  a more 
superficial  mind,  would  have  been  scarcely 
apparent.  But,  being  once  satisfied  of  the 
evidence  on  which  any  fact  or  doctrine  rested, 
he  received  it  as  settled  and  acknowledged 
truth,  as  to  which  there  was  no  room  to  doubt. 
With  the  same  calm  and  deliberate  investiga- 
tion did  he  examine  every  religious  doctrine  ; 
but,  being  satisfied  of  the  evidence  on  which  it 
rested,  it  henceforth  formed  part  of  his  mind, 
and  there,  like  a “ tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of 
water,”  it  brought  forth  “ its  fruit  in  due 
season.”  He  paid  little  attention  to  occasional 
feelings  of  depression,  which  he  conceived  to 
depend  mainly  on  the  physical  temperament, 
and  was  backward  to  converse  on  the  subject 
of  religious  feelings,  or  what  is  sometimes 
termed  11  Christian  experience.”  Simple  faith, 
and  unwavering  hope,  formed  a striking  part 
of  his  religious  character.  He  knew  that 
Christ  died  for  sinners  ; he  acknowledged  that 
he  was  a sinner  ; he  read  the  invitation  to  all 
who  were  willing — he  was  willing — why,  there- 
fore, should  he  doubt  ? This  confidence  in  the 


184 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


word  of  truth  was  united  to  the  deepest  sense 
of  his  own  unworthiness.  Had  he  trusted,  in 
the  least,  to  himself,  his  unworthiness  might 
have  depressed  him,  but  while  resting  exclu- 
sively on  the  righteousness  and  atonement  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  on  promises  to  which  the 
Divine  power  and  truth  were  pledged,  no  fear 
or  doubt  could  shake  him.  It  cannot,  there- 
fore, be  matter  of  surprise,  that,  in  the  prospect 
of  death,  and  its  lingering  approaches,  Dr. 
Hope  should  have  been  greatly  supported. 
Calculating  from  his  medical  experience,  he 
concluded  that  he  should  not,  in  all  probability, 
survive  above  nine  months,  after  the  abscesses 
in  his  lungs  had  burst;  and  requested  Mrs. 
Hope  not  to  mention  to  him  the  possibility  of 
recovery,  for  such  conversations  tended  to 
unsettle  his  mind,  while  his  spirits  were  more 
cheerful  when  he  took  an  opposite  view  of  the 
subject.  On  his  bed- room  chimney-piece  he 
kept  a strip  of  paper,  with  which  he  used  to 
measure  the  size  of  his  leg ; and  as  it  dimi- 
nished inch  by  inch,  he  used  to  smile,  and  to 
speculate  on  the  probability  of  his  going  before 
or  after  the  time  he  had  first  named. 

His  family  could  find  no  more  appropriate 
manner  of  describing  his  conduct,  throughout 
the  last  seven  months  of  his  life,  than  that  it 
resembled  that  of  a man  who,  expecting  to  set 
off  on  a journey,  puts  everything  in  order 
before  his  departure,  and  makes  arrangements 
to  supply  his  absence.  His  own  preparations 
for  the  journey  he  was  about  to  take  had  in- 


JAMES  HOPE,  M D. 


185 


deed  been  completed  long  before.  When  in 
health,  he  had  frequently  spoken  of  the  folly 
of  deferring  preparation  for  death  to  a bed  of 
sickness.  Even  supposing,  he  used  to  say, 
that  a man  could  be  sure  of  having  a long  ill- 
ness, few  have  any  idea  how  much  illness 
disqualifies  the  mind  for  thought,  how  many 
diseases,  even  at  an  early  stage,  take  away  the 
senses,  and  how  very  commonly  a stupor  pre- 
cedes death.  This  subject  had  long  dwelt  on 
his  mind,  and  it  was  his  intention  to  write  a 
book  on  the  different  modes  of  death,  illustrat- 
ing this  religious  view  of  the  matter.  During 
his  illness  he  often  exclaimed,  “How  could  I 
now  prepare  for  death  ?”  And  yet  his  was  a 
disease  peculiarly  fitted  for  such  a preparation, 
and  his  mind  was,  to  the  last,  so  clear,  that  he, 
if  any,  could  have  done  so. 

One  day,  he  met  Dr.  Chambers  in  consultation 
at  the  house  of  a patient,  and,  having  alluded 
to  his  approaching  death,  Dr.  Chambers  endea- 
voured to  cheer  him  by  saying  that  there  was 
no  occasion  to  despond,  for  that  he  might  do 
well  yet.  Dr.  Hope  stopped  him  with  the 
assurance  that  he  needed  not  to  be  thus 
cheered,  for  he  was  well  aware  of  his  condition ; 
that,  besides,  the  nature  of  Dr.  Chambers’s 
communication  was  not  pleasing,  for  he  should 
be  sorry  to  be  detained  long  from  his  heavenly 
inheritance,  and  to  exchange  its  prospect  for 
the  toils  of  his  profession. 

The  last  time  Dr.  Latham  saw  him,  he  in- 
quired if  he  felt  quite  happy.  “ Perfectly  so,” 
16* 


186 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


was  Dr.  Hope’s  answer ; “ I have  always  been 
a sober  thinking  man,  and  I could  not  have 
imagined  the  joy  that  I now  feel.  My  only 
wish  is  to  convey  it  to  the  minds  of  others,  but 
that  is  impossible.  It  is  such  as  I fcould  not 
have  conceived  possible.” 

When  asked  whether  he  found  that  illness 
enabled  him  to  realize  spiritual  things  in  a 
greater  degree,  he  answered,  “Yes,  when  we 
approach  the  invisible  world,  it  is  astonishing 
with  what  intensity  of  feeling  we  desire  to  be 
there.”  Adding,  after  an  interval,  “ When  we 
consider,  too,  what  we  now  are  ; how  continu- 
ally we  sin — pollution  is  in  every  thought. 
When  we  analyse  our  motives,  we  see  sin  in 
them.  I did  this  from  such  a motive — that, 
from  such  another. — Charity  is  given  with  a 
feeling  of  self-complacency. — The  only  way  is 
to  bring  the  burden  to  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
and  tumble  it  down  there,  saying,  1 Here  lam.’ 
It  is  surprising  how  prominently  the  promises 
come  out.”  Were  a reprieve  given  me,  I 
should  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  God,  but  I must 
confess  it  would  be  long  before  I could  rejoice.” 
With  all  this  joy  and  peace — this  “ desire  to 
depart  and  to  be  with  Christ” — there  was  no 
enthusiasm  or  excitement  visible  in  his  words 
and  demeanour.  Nothing,  it  is  said,  could 
have  exceeded  the  sobriety  of  his  mind.  He 
drew  his  hopes  and  conclusions  from  the  Bible 
alone.  From  that  source  he  derived  the  sure 
and  joyful  belief,  that,  in  another  world,  his 
renewed  faculties  and  purified  nature  would 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 


187 


enable  him  to  love  God  more  singly,  and  to 
serve  him  more  actively,  than  he  had  hitherto 
been  enabled  to  do,  and  therefore  he  could  not 
but  rejoice. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  last  winter  of 
his  life,  1840-41,  Dr.  Hope  still  continued 
the  practice  of  his  profession.  He  saw  patients 
at  home  from  ten  o’clock  till  twelve  or  one. 
After  which  he  visited  St.  George’s,  and  drove 
about  seeing  patients  till  five  or  six  ; and  pre- 
ferred this  employment  to  the  feverish  restless- 
ness of  a day  spent  at  home.  In  his  carriage, 
he  usually  took  some  devotional  work,  or  he 
selected  some  texts,  which  furnished  him  with 
ample  meditation  during  his  drive. 

Towards  the  end  of  February,  he  listened  to 
the  solicitations  of  Mrs.  Hope  to  retire  alto- 
gether from  practice,  and,  on  the  80th  of  March, 
he  left  town  for  Hampstead,  with  the  certain 
knowledge  that  he  never  should  return.  Thus 
ended  his  professional  life.  Such  was  the 
termination  of  all  those  dreams  of  wealth  and 
honour  in  which  he  had  once  so  ardently 
indulged.  What,  then,  was  the  feeling  with 
which  he  relinquished  all  ? It  is  said,  by  one 
who  knew  him  best,  that  the  only  feeling  of 
which  he  was  conscious  was  that  of  unalloyed 
pleasure.  He  was  going  to  enjoy  repose — 
imperfect  indeed — but  preparatory  to  that  per- 
fect rest  to  which  he  was  hastening,  and  for  the 
rapid  approach  of  which  he  earnestly  prayed. 
Did  he  not  regret  the  change  on  account  of  his 
only  son  ? The  only  remark  that  he  appears 


188 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


to  have  made  as  to  this,  was  to  the  effect  that 
his  son,  had  he  lived,  would  probably  have 
been  independent  of  a profession,  adding,  “ But 
I am  not  sorry  for  the  change,  for  then  he 
would  probably  have  been  more  a child  of  the 
world  than  I trust  he  may  now  prove  to  be.” 
Yet  this  is  the  same  individual  who,  filled  from 
his  earliest  years  with  bright  visions  of  fame, 
and  wealth,  and  honour,  had  sacrificed  every 
consideration  to  gain  the  treasures  he  now 
prizes  so  lightly.  It  is  well  observed  by  his 
biographer,  that  “ the  Christian  alone  can  dis- 
cover the  cause  of  so  extraordinary  a change. 
In  the  book  of  God  he  finds,  that,  through 
the  Divine  agency,  man  becomes  1 a new  crea- 
ture ; old  things  pass  away,  and  all  things 
become  new.’  Joyfully  did  he  resign  the 
blessings  of  this  world,  because  he  found, 
within  his  grasp,  1 richer  treasures,  surpassing 
honours,  purer  joys,  which  shall  never  fade, 
never  cloy,  but  endure  for  ever  and  ever.’  ” 

Mrs.  Hope,  who  was  the  only  witness  of  his 
last  few  days,  wrote  an  account  of  them  for  his 
family ; from  which  we  cannot  refrain  trans- 
cribing a few  extracts. 

Sunday,  May  9th — “ On  this  subject” — that 
deep  conviction  of  sin  which  alone  can  make  a 
sinner  prize  Christ  as  a Saviour — “ a painful 
doubt  flashed  across  my  mind  ; for  though  I 
had  frequently  heard  him  insist  on  the  general 
depravity  of  human  nature,  I could  not  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  him  speak  of  his  own  indi- 
vidual sins,  and  lament  them  ; except  on  one 


189  - 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D. 

occasion,  when  he  was  indeed  humbled.  I 
explained  how  great  would  be  my  satisfaction 
at  hearing  him  express  his  feelings  on  the 
subject.  He  looked  up  for  one  moment,  and 
then  casting  down  his  eyes  and  his  head,  he 
remained  silent  for  a few  minutes,  during 
which  time  deep,  strong,  and  painful  emotions 
apparently  struggled  in  his  breast.  At  length, 
in  a voice  scarcely  articulate  from  agitation,  he 
said,  L I always  begin  my  prayers  with  the  I 
mention  of  my  sins,  and  generally  with  tears. 

I always  have  a deep  sense  of  my  own  unwor- 
thiness. Even  now  I find  all  sorts  of  worldly 
thoughts  and  feelings  carrying  me  away  from 
God,  and  polluting  my  mind.  I cannot  say  . 
what  a grief  this  is  to  me ; and  it  shows  me 
more  than  ever,  that  all  my  righteousness  is 
but  a filthy  rag.  And  when  I think,  on  the 
one  hand,  of  the  numberless  offences  which  I 
have  committed  ; and,  on  the  other,  remember 
the  blessings  which  I have  enjoyed,  oh,  it  is 
enough  to  bow  one  down  to  the  earth  !’  These 
words  are,  in  themselves,  strong  expressions  ; 
but  the  earnestness  and  deep  feeling  with  which 
they  were  uttered  made  them  doubly  so.  He 
added,  1 1 have  often  taken  a practical  chapter 
of  the  New  Testament,  and  have  determined  to 
act  up  to  it  during  the  day ; but  alas  ! I have 
often  forgotten  it  altogether  ; and  when  I did 
remember  it,  how  miserably  did  I fall  short  of 
it ! This,  more  than  anything,  showed  me  the 
original  sin  in  my  nature,  and  threw  me  on  the 
promises  of  Christ.  I found  it  was  useless  to 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


]$0 

rest  too  much  on  details,  but  I took  fast  hold 
upon  the  grand  leading  truth,  that  Christ  is  an 
all-sufficient  sacrifice  for  sin.  I think,  also, 
that  I had  a great  fear  of  God,  but  I feared 
him  as  one  fears  a parent.’  On  hearing  him 
speak  so  decidedly,  I expressed  the  pleasure 
that  I derived  from  it,  adding,  that  when  I 
remembered  how  fully  he  had  looked  to  Christ, 
esj)ecially  since  Christmas,  1839,  and  what 
peace  he  had  enjoyed  in  the  anticipation  of 
death,  I could  not  think  that  Christ  would  have 
allowed  him  to  remain  in  error  on  any  vital 
point.  He  immediately  answered,  ‘ Long 
before  the  time  you  name,  I think  I was  in  the 
way  of  salvation,  even  so  long  as  ten  or  twelve 
years  ago.  When  I attended  Mr.  Howels’ 
chapel,  I learned  the  saving  truths  of  the 
gospel;  and  although  I was  a most  imperfect 
creature,  I believe  I might  have  come  within 
the  pale  of  salvation,  because  I had  then  the 
evidence  of  the  Spirit  working  a change  within 
me.’  After  some  farther  conversation,  he  added, 

1 1 cannot  express  my  grief  and  humiliation  at 
not  having  been  able  to  keep  my  attention 
fixed  at  church.  If  Satan  had  a malicious 
or  wicked  thought  to  suggest,  he  chose  that 
time.  An  exciting  sermon  might,  indeed, 
rouse  my  attention  ; but  the  prayers — oh  ! the 
prayers.  And  when  I think  of  the  blessings 
that  I have  enjoyed,  is  it  not  enough  to  grind 
me  to  the  dust  ?’  He  then  spoke  with  much 
warmth  and  gratitude  of  the  many  blessings 
that  had  been  vouchsafed  to  him. 


JAMES  HOPE,  M.D.  191 

44  On  the  evening  before  his  death  he  said,  4 T 
will  not^ake  speeches,  but  I have  two  things 
to  say.’  1 The  first  was  an  affectionate  farewell 
to  myself.  In  reply,  I reminded  him  of  the 
superior  satisfaction  which  he  possessed  of 
having  promoted  my  happiness,  not  only  in 
this  world,  but  also,  as  I trusted,  in  the  world 
to  come.  He  answered  meekly,  4 It  was  not  I.’ 
Here  he  was  interrupted  by  coughing.  When 
he  was  again  quiet,  I reminded  him  that  he 
had  another  thing  to  say,  and  begged  him  to 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  doing  so.  He 
then  added,  4 The  second  is  soon  said.  Christ  is 
all  in  all  to  me,  I have  no  hope  except  in  him. 
He  is,  indeed,  All  in  all.’  I quoted,  4 Though 
I walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death, — thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.’ 
He  said,  4 They  do  comfort  me.  There  is  no 
darkness.  I see  Jordan  and  the  heavenly  Joshua 
passing  over  dry-shod.’  Throughout  the  night, 
when  awake,  he  was  perfectly  calm  and  col- 
lected. At  his  request  I read  the  15th  chapter 
of  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  and,  at  a 
later  period,  he  begged  me  to  repeat  texts, 
which  I did  from  time  to  time.  He  frequently 
asked  whether  I was  cold  or  tired,  made  in- 
quiries as  to  whether  I was  adequately  clothed, 
and  proved,  in  various  ways,  that  he  retained 
his  faculties  and  his  characteristic  solicitude  for 
others.  He  also  directed  me  what  medicines* 
to  give  him,  how  to  prepare  them,  altering  the 
quantities,  and  making  medical  observations 
from  time  to  time  on  his  state Day 


192 


EMINENT  MEDICAL  MEN. 


beginning  to  dawn,  he  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  I remarked,  4 What  a glorious  day  is  dawn- 
ing on  you,  my  dearest ! ’ He  assented  with  a 
look  of  joy.  I said,  4 There  will  be  no  sun 
and  no  moon  there,  for  the  Lamb  will  be  the 
light  thereof.’  Looking  fixedly  before  him,  he 
murmured,  4 Christ ! angels  ! beautiful ! magni- 
ficent ! delightful !’  and  then  turning  to  me, 
with  a look  as  if  re-assuring  me,  4 Indeed,  it  is.’ 
At  one  time  he  said,  4 This  suffering  is  little  to 
what  Christ  suffered  on  the  cross.’  I quoted, 
4 But  our  light  affliction,’  etc.  A few  minutes 
after,  he  said,  4 1 thank  God ! ’ and  these  were 
the  last  connected  .words  that  he  spoke.  * * 
He  continued  to  breathe  till  twenty- three 
minutes  past  four,  (May  13,  1841,)  when  he 
slept  in  Jesus.” 


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